Small Moments
by DarkWriter711
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle, lives become whole again in the absence of fear as people try to remember what 'normal life' is, and some find out what it means for the first time. Multiple Pairings. [Deathly Hallows Spoilers]
1. When you find what you

DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS

This is set just following the end of the book just before the epilogue. I don't know about anyone else, but I cried my way through the whole part where it seemed like Harry was going to die.

I don't own these characters. I just like playing with them.

Harry, though feeling like a huge weight had been lifted, not just from his shoulders, but from his whole body, walked with Ron and Hermione from the headmaster's office. All through the hallways, he could hear the celebration taking place in the Great Hall. The voices of the survivors echoed happily, and the castle suddenly seemed lighter and happier. The light bounced off the walls merrily, despite the debris scattered all over the place. As they walked, Hermione used quick charmwork to repair what she could of the damage. Like he had many times over the past year, Harry marveled at how well her charms worked and how fast she could think of the appropriate one to use.

Ron walked at Harry's right, his hands in his pockets, looking down. It took Harry a moment to realize that, in all the confusion of triumph and death, a Weasley had been lost. He stopped walking and seized Ron's arm. Ron stopped, and so did Hermione, standing close to him.

"Listen, mate," Harry said as Ron wrapped his arm around Hermione. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I know," Ron said, looking up at him, "Everyone lost someone. I'm just going to miss him. But I can't mourn him now... its all over. Its time to be happy, and thats what he would have wanted."

Hermione shook her head, standing independently of Ron. He raised his eyebrows.

"No. You know what they would have _all _loved? Especially Fred and Remus?"

Harry was even more exhausted than before when he stood in front of the open doors to the Great Hall. Though he was the hero of the day, no one noticed he was there in all the hustle and bustle of celebrating and mourning.

A fitting tribute, they had decided, needed to be paid quickly to lift the spirits of those who had lost loved ones. Harry pulled out his newly repaired wand and tapped the end of the fireworks Hermione had lined up on the floor. As rapidly as they could in all their lethargy, the trio launched the whole store of the Weasley Twins' fireworks that they could find that had been confiscated by Filch.

Several people jumped with the first bang, but after a moment only laughter and "oooohs" and "aaaahs" could be heard. Harry smiled, scanning the tables as he leaned on the door frame. Ron and Hermione went to join the others at the Gryffindor table, but Harry prefered just to stand back and watch.

Families were huddled together and old friends were hugging. The dead had been moved quickly, apparently. Harry did not see the bodies against the wall anymore. Professor McGonagall was sitting in what Harry would always know as Dumbledore's seat at the high table, along with the old staff that still remained. Snape's chair, Harry noticed, was vacant. He wondered if it was out of respect. The truth, or what he could bear to tell of it, would be known as soon as things calmed down and his statements were made.

Harry decided, since only a few people seemed to have noticed his presence, that it was safe to put the Invisibility Cloak back on. He disappeared and wove his way along the tables expertly. For the first time he really noticed how well he maneuvered undetected while invisible. He made his way down the aisle toward the Gryffindor table where Ginny sat beside her mother. As stealthily as he could, Harry leaned down and slid his arm around her waist, holding her still. The small jolt she gave was, thankfully, not enough to alert her mother.

"Its me," he whispered to her. Ron to her right looked over, knowing why his sister had looked up, but didn't say anything. It seemed that he was having a very important conversation with Hermione.

"Harry..." she started, her voice quiet and full of something Harry didn't recognise.

"I'm going up to the Gryffindor Tower," he said, his lips only inches from her ear. The closeness was unbearable for Harry. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her and hold her, but he couldn't. He hoped she would understand that he wanted her to join her as soon as she could, if she wanted to. Slowly, he pulled away from her and strode out of the hall. After all he had been through in the past twenty-four hours, his head was pounding from all of the noise.

Once he was out of sight of the doors, Harry pulled off the cloak. He draped it over his arm as he made his way to the tower. Signs of the battle were written all over the castle, but Harry couldn't see them. He was too lost in his relief, happiness and grief.

There were so many people lost that night. Harry felt responsibility for their deaths, though he couldn't see how things could have been different. Not yet, at least. He knew eventually he would analyze every action he had made and decide how things could have been changed, but what was done was done.

He was relieved and happy because no more lives would be lost in his name and in the name of his safety. People could be happy now. They could live without fear for their own lives and for the lives of those they loved. Hogwarts would be repaired. In September, the students would return. Life would go on.

But for Harry, it would be an entirely new adventure. He had never known a normal life, whether it be in the Wizarding World or in the muggle world. This, he thought, was the start of what he had always wanted...

The Fat Lady squealed at the sight of him. Harry smiled at her and the sense of familiarity seeing her gave him. He crossed his arms in front of her, a quirky smile on his lips.

"Going to let me in?" he asked. She bowed a bit to him and swung open. Harry entered after thanking her.

The Gryffindor common room was just as he remembered it --- well used, crimson and untidy. Again, he marveled at how some things never changed. His stance weary and his eyes tired, he sank into the armchair that had once been deemed his before trying to climb the stairs to his dormitory. He wasn't so sure his legs could take it.

Harry turned a few moments later upon hearing the portrait swing open again. When he realized it was Ginny, he expected to see her grinning at him, happy that it was over, and willing to laugh with him a little before tucking him into bed. So he was a little startled to notice she was sobbing uncontrollably. He was downright shocked when she started yelling.

"What were you thinking?!" she shouted, her beautiful red hair falling into her face, "What were you thinking playing dead? Do you know what that felt like?! Seeing you there, lifeless in Hagrid's arms?! I thought I was never going to talk to you again or argue with you or... or..." she stammered to the end of her sentence through her sobs. Harry, with energy he truly did not possess, moved to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, bending down a bit so they were eye level.

"Fred had just died," she whimpered at him, "I watched Lupin fall. He was s-standing in front of Tonks and he shielded her... and then she was killed trying to avenge him.. then it stopped and finally it seemed like maybe someone had a plan or something and then that awful ---" she hiccuped, "voice came and there was Hagrid carrying you and they said you were dead, Harry."

"I had to," he said, his resolve to keep his eyes dry dissolving as he looked at her. Too much emotion, too much to say, and not enough words.

"You better have a damn good explanation, Harry James Potter, because I---"

Harry cut her off with a kiss. Just as he had imagined in the Forbidden Forest, her lips were soft and her hands were warm. A blissful sense of peace struck him, drowning all his emotions for just a moment, as she kissed him back, both weary and passionate.

"I had to, Ginny," he said, holding her close, feeling her grip him tight and not minding. Her arms were closed tight around him as his were around her. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her face turned against his chest as though he were shielding her.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there with her like that, quietly reliving the painful tale of why he had to pretend he was dead. They stood in the same spot where their relationship had started as he told her about Snape and his feelings for his mother, and how he was the seventh and final horcrux. She didn't interrupt him as he told her about how he felt walking into the forest and about seeing his mother, father, godfather and the man who was in essence, his favorite Uncle, stand beside him as he faced death in a more real way than he ever had before. He even told her about how she had been his last thought as he had died, though not really. He was sure he would never tell the tale as fluidly as he did then, to one of the only three people in the world that he knew would not laugh and who would have understood.

"I thought of you, Ginny," he concluded, his arms tightening around her, "I thought of you and how you kissed me on my birthday, and how safe and happy I was right then."

She had been rather still while he had talked, and when she stirred, Harry felt the cold air where her hands and her head had rested on him.

"You are such a suck-up, Harry," she said, a grin breaking out across her face. Harry grinned back and kissed her again, though with more of the strength and fire he had bottled up during their time apart.

"When you climbed through that tunnel into the Room of Requirement," Harry said, looking down at her, "seriously, I wanted to grab you right there. But we didn't have much time."

"We've got time now," she said, smiling the warm smile Harry loved, "We've got a lot of time, and its all ours. And the next time you plan an adventure or something really dangerous ---"  
"I'll make sure you're included. But right now, the only adventure I have planned is a nap. And maybe a sandwich if Kreacher will bring it to me," he said as his stomach growled angrily. He couldn't remember the last time he ate.

Ginny looked puzzled for a moment as she looked up at him. "You walked out there... and you let.. you let Voldemort kill you?"

Harry nodded slowly. It seemed so much more real now that she had said it, now that someone knew. He didn't want to talk about it yet, though. He couldn't pretend that the experience had not been traumatic. Thankfully, she seemed to understand this.

"The food appeared a few minutes after you left, you know," Ginny said in quiet shock and respect, resting her head back against Harry's chest for the moment, "We could go back downstairs and get something there."

"My head couldn't take it," Harry said, adding dramatically, "I think having part of Voldemort's soul ripped from my body left a bit of an empty spot in my head and my brain has been rattling around in there."

"Your brain has always rattled," she said, releasing him, though keeping her arm around his waist. Though he would never admit it, Harry was indeed leaning on her for balance.

"Gee, thanks," Harry said. Ginny found a smile for him again, for which Harry was grateful. Together, they climbed the stairs up to the boy's dormitories. Harry pulled off his shirt, not self conscious in the least with Ginny.

"Wait for a moment," she said, turning towards the door. Harry started to follow her.

"Where are you going?" he asked. He was afraid she wasn't going to stay with him. Of all the things to be afraid of, he was scared that she was going to leave him to sleep in his familiar bed all by himself.

"I stole some of your clothes," she admitted, blushing a bit. "I did it over the summer. Just a pair of pajamas and that nice blue button up shirt that looks so good on you that you hate..."

Harry was confused. "Why?"

"Well, I realized I didn't have anything of yours --- and don't give me that _you have my heart_ line, because its corny and its not going to get you anywhere ---" she said when he opened his mouth to say just that, "and so I took some of your clothes. When ever I missed my brothers when I was a kid and they were at school, I'd wear their clothes and it made me feel better. I thought that, when I missed you, if I just wore your shirt or something..."

Harry grinned. She was so fierce and passionate a personality sometimes, and then there were these adorable gestures she made that made him want to wrap her in his arms and shield her forever from anything that could change her in the slightest.

"Did it help?" he asked. He hoped the warmth he felt towards her translated into his eyes.

Ginny shook her head. "Not much. All it did was make me feel a little closer to you."

"Well, you don't have to steal my clothes for that anymore, thankfully," he said. She smiled at him for a moment, then left the dormitory for a moment.

Harry sat on his bed, which as made perfectly, as was Ron's, and looked around. He had spent so much time in this room... so much time in that bed and in this tower. It was hard to think that it was another lifetime. A lifetime where he had a parasitic part of an evil soul had been residing inside of him and now, though at the cost of many people he loved and many people he did not know, he was free.

Ginny returned, wearing the blue shirt she had mentioned only moments ago with a pair of cotton shorts, carrying Harry's pajama pants. Now didn't seem to be the time to mention that he usually slept in just his boxers if he could, so he changed into the pjs while she turned around.

"Okay, you can stop pretending you're not looking," Harry said. Ginny turned around as Harry turned down the covers on the bed. It was always so warm and inviting. He collapsed onto it, and, as though it was something they did every day, Ginny climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers up around them both. Harry turned on his side and faced her, kissing her softly. The idle kissing and caresses faded slowly into a deep slumber for both teenagers, and all through the morning into the late afternoon, they held each other.


	2. A Hero's Welcome for Three

I do not own these characters. I wish I did. But I'll just have to live with letting them be my puppets. So sad.

Please Review!

In that place between alertness and slumber, Harry felt something brush his cheek. Then his forehead. Then his neck, and finally his lips where it lingered. It took a moment for him to realize it was Ginny's lips he was feeling, and, tiredly, he kissed her back. He was thankful for the sleep, but in the deepest corners of Harry's mind, he knew the nightmares would not be at bay for many nights.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a smile, his eyes closed.

"Mum was just here," she said, and Harry felt her stir beside him, "She says they've cleaned up the castle and that there's going to be a feast in about a half an hour and that '_Harry Potter damn well better be there --- and why the hell are you in bed with him, Ginny?"_

Harry chuckled at the perfect imitation of her mother's voice and sat up, feeling for his glasses, which Ginny placed on his face before moving to get out of bed. He grabbed the back of his shirt that she was wearing and tugged her back.

"I'll be needing that," he told her, and Ginny frowned.

"Nope. Stole it fair and square."

"Don't make me take it off of you," Harry said with a grin. Ginny smirked a bit.

"You don't have any clothes, do you?" Ginny said. Harry shook his head.

"I can wear my jeans again, but my shirt is bloodstained," he told her, stroking back her hair, "and that wouldn't be good for morale, would it?"

Ginny just smiled a little, closing her eyes at the feeling of Harry's hand in her hair. For a moment, they just sat there. Harry felt the weight of all that had happened, but instead of grief, he felt overwhelming gratitude toward what ever power had brought him this far. He was safe, as were many of the people he cared about, and he was with the girl he loved. He could ask for more, but not considering everything.

"Are we back together, Harry?" Ginny asked in a small voice. Harry looked down at her, furrowing his brow.

"Of course we are. Why wouldn't we be? Do you not want to be?"

"Well, you broke up with me, you know," Ginny said, and Harry's heart sank. He had. It was easy to forget, considering his feelings for her hadn't faded one bit.

"Okay. Will you be my girlfriend? Again?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

Ron and Hermione had only gotten away moments ago. Hermione was hell bent on finding a set of robes to change into instead of the burnt, torn, dirty ones she was wearing, and Ron was simply following.

"Honestly, does it matter that much?" he said, trailing her by a few steps.

"Of course it does, Ronald," she said. This was the first time they had been alone all day. Harry had been able to get away hours ago, but Ron and Hermione hadn't been so lucky. Everyone wanted to know just a bit about what they had been up to the past year, and what choice did they have but to tell Harry's supporters the truth?

"There's going to be a feast. McGonagall is probably going to draw attention to all three of us, and you know it," she said. Ron shrugged.

"So? I kind of like this look on you," he said, reaching over and sliding his fingers through the large hole in the side of her shirt. Hermione jumped, the color rising in her face.

"I don't," she said, wrapping her arms around herself insecurely. "I don't like showing too much skin."

"I don't understand why not," Ron said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "I think you're beautiful. Especially when you're kicking a Death Eater's ass."

Reluctantly, Hermione chuckled. She pulled open the door of what was apparently a very large closet. Rows of school uniforms were hanging along the walls, along with stacks of supplies for classes.

"Whats all this?" Ron asked. Hermione shuffled through the robes, looking for her size.

"Extra uniforms. Just in case something happens to someone's or they have a growth spurt and have no money or something."

"Blimey. I didn't know this was here."

"Didn't you ever read ---"

"No, Hermione. I never read _Hogwarts, A History_."

Hermione tugged a white button up that was clearly too big for her down, and went on a search for a pair of pants. She handed Ron a pair while she searched for a pair near her size.

"Well, I don't suppose its important now, is it?" she asked. Ron, apparently very comfortable with Hermione since she had seen him in his underwear before, changed right there in the middle of the room. When she finally turned around with the clothes she was going to wear in her arms, her eyes widened. Ron was shaking out the pair of gray pants, checking the tag idly.

"What?" he asked, glimpsing her expression.

"N-nothing..."

"Come on," he said, pulling them on, "We lived in a tent together for months. You've taken care of me when I was sick and watched me puke slugs and you're going to _blush_ at the sight of my boxers? I didn't care when I walked in on you that day when ---"

"We _swore_ we were never going to bring that up again, Ron!" Hermione cried. Her face was red and, as usual, Ron was amused.

"Well, times change," Ron said, "And stop looking at me like that."

Hermione glared a bit at him, but then she remembered how he kissed her just before the battle had started. She remembered how warm she felt curled up against him on those cold nights in the tent while Harry was outside guarding. Stolen moments, she figured, were always the sweetest.

"What if I don't want to stop looking at you like that?" she asked. Ron raised his eyebrows and stepped closer. Hermione knew she was getting more comfortable with him and more confident in the fact that he cared for her, but old insecurities often got the better of her. More than once she thought that she wasn't pretty enough or brave enough or quick enough with a snappy, sexy retort to keep him on his toes, but when he looked back at her like that...

Before she could reconsider her actions, Hermione kissed him, slow and sweet. She felt Ron's arms slide around her and she wondered exactly how many ways he could find to hold her and kiss her and make her feel special. It seemed like he found a new one every time.

Finally, they broke apart, and she felt his forehead pressed against hers, his hands holding her as though she were glass.

"I've always loved you, Hermione," he told her. She could tell it cost him a lot to say that. "Always. And I'm sorry for all the things I've ever done to upset you."

"I love you too, Ron," she said, her voice quiet and small. She was vulnerable, though she wanted so bad not to be, but it was the only way Ron would truly see her, and her want for him to do just that overwhelmed any of the voices in her head that told her to raise her defenses.

"So can we agree that we're going to try to make this work? Honestly? I know we've talked about it, but things are different now."

Hermione nodded a little, earning herself a grin --- the kind she loved.

"So, are you going to change or not?"

Harry strode into the hall, as anticipated, to loud applause. He had hoped he would have arrived early enough in advance to avoid the attention, but unfortunately he had miscalculated. Or Ginny had planned this. Both were highly possible.

With a small, humble smile, he waved, sliding into his place beside Ron and Hermione with Ginny beside him. He squeezed Hermione's hand under the table, holding Ginny's hand as well. He felt so much closer to Hermione after she had stuck with him, even when he had no idea what he was doing. He didn't blame Ron for leaving though, and he held no ill feelings toward him for it. He had returned with strengthened resolve.

Hermione smiled at him, and Harry noticed a sort of self possession in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. He had always known the confidence Hermione got by on was solely invested in her quick wit and cleverness. Emotionally, she was quite vulnerable and, as a brother to her, Harry had always tried to bolster her confidence as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do. It seemed that Ron could handle the rest.

McGonagall stood up at the high table and raised her hands to silence everyone. The effect was not nearly as immediate as when Dumbledore did it, but eventually the crowd quieted. She cleared her throat and looked to all the people she knew in the room.

"Thank you all, on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix for coming today and fighting the way you did," she said, her voice strong, thought it was clear that she was frazzled, and with good reason. It had been a very long day. "I would like to assure you that Hogwarts will be... repaired, and that it will reopen in September with a few staffing changes."

She glanced to the seats that Harry, Ron and Hermione could only guess had belonged to the Carrows. A collective shiver could be observed from every student that had attended the school over the past year.

"I would like to formally recognize three people in this room who made what we witnessed this morning possible. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Harry had been afraid of this. The last thing he wanted to do was make an address to all of these people, though he was eternally grateful to those who had stood up to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He didn't know what to say beyond 'thank you', but the tug Hermione gave his hand told him he was out of options.

With his hands in his pockets, he followed Hermione and Ron up to the front of the room. There was applause and cries out to them. Hermione beamed at him, but Ron looked just as uncomfortable as Harry felt.

"Um... I don't know what to say... I think talking to you guys is scarier than facing Voldemort."

There was scattered laughter around the room, and Harry felt a little heartened.

"I want to thank you all... for standing up for what you believe in. It made what happened today worth it. And... I want to thank Ron and Hermione too for being so great. There were so many times they could have left me between a rock and a hard place, and I would have never blamed them, but they didn't. And I'm eternally grateful."

He looked to Ron and Hermione, hoping they could see his gratitude on his face. Hermione obviously could, judging by the tears in her eyes. Ron gave Harry's shoulder a manly squeeze.

"And... and I want to say thank you to all the teachers... and to the whole Weasley family. You guys are amazing. And Ginny... I love you. Even though you weren't there... you were. I want you to know that."

Ginny went almost as red as her hair at the mention of her name. Harry grinned --- that was exactly what he had wanted. He then looked to Professor McGonagall. He wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say. Thankfully, she took up the slack.

"We'll be happy to have the three of you back as students next year."

Harry gaped. Professor McGonagall gave him a smile that indicated that she saw the humor in the situation. It was an expression he was sure no one in the room had ever seen before.

"Surely you didn't think we'd give you honorary diplomas. You'll have to come back for your seventh year. After defeating the Dark Lord, I'm sure you N.E.W.T.S will be no problem."

Harry, Ron and Hermione just stared at her for a moment, then returned to their seats, dejected.

"Why'd we have to go up there?" Ron asked as the food appeared and everyone started talking again. He spoke through a mouth of mashed potatoes, "All you did was talk. And you didn't really ---"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron," Hermione said sternly, cutting up her steak. Without argument, he swallowed, having fallen silent.

"I wanted to go with you, Harry," Ginny said, just loud enough for Harry to hear. He looked at her, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

"I know, but... I had to know you were safe."

The loss of her brother and some of her friends, as well as the shock of seeing Harry dead, then seeing him alive and then watching Voldemort fall was taking its toll on her. Harry wrapped his arm around her as she curled up into him, her legs drawn up beside her, and let her lean into him.

The more Harry thought about it, the happier he was with the idea of coming back the next year. It sounded amazing... a quiet year at Hogwarts with nothing to plague him except tests and the drama that surrounded the house cup. He rubbed Ginny's shoulders, smiling at the thought, until another one struck him.

"But what am I going to do until its time to go back?"

Mrs. Weasley looked at him as though he had directly insulted her. Harry shrank under her glower, making Ginny giggle, which he appreciated.

"You'll be staying with us. As will Hermione, won't you?"

Hermione looked up. "Well, I'm not sure. I have to go to Australia and get my parents. I modified their memories, and I have to lift the enchantment, because they don't know me, and I kind of miss them..."

She looked down, and Harry was forcefully reminded of the sacrifices she had made. Ron rubbed her back a little bit, swallowing a large quantity of corn. "I'll go with you," he said.

Hermione beamed up at him and kissed his cheek. Mrs. Weasley smiled, though a little sadness lingered in her looks. It was easy for them to accept Fred's death, he knew, because he had died doing something they all believed strongly in. They would miss him, yes, as they would miss Lupin and Tonks and all the other friends they had lost, but life would go on, and they would be happy again.

An idea struck Harry, and it was one he liked so much that he didn't even bother thinking twice about it.

"Lets take a trip. All of us. And your parents too, Hermione. Lets go somewhere. My treat."

"Thats sweet of you, Harry, but I couldn't let you do that. Where would we go?"

"Anywhere you want! Really, its what Sirius would have wanted... for all of us to get away after everything was over."

Ginny raised her head up and looked at Harry and his heart melted a little.

"You're so cute when you're justifying yourself."

A/N: I don't know where this is going. Suggestions might be helpful if anyone out there wants me to continue. Let me know!


	3. The Godfather

A/N: This is a short chapter, but I think its cute.

Molly Weasley woke up in her bed the next day with the strangest mix of emotions she had ever felt. She was throughly sad because her son had died. Though she had more children to care for and love, there was only one Fred, and his place in her heart would always be empty. She was happy because the danger had passed, and depressed because, in addition to Fred, it had taken many people she cared a lot for with it. She was disturbed because she had killed the day before, though she knew Bellatrix Lestrange deserved it. She was joyful because two of her children had found people they loved, and in a sense she felt like she had gained a son and a daughter, but she was also melancholy because one of her sons was now missing the one person in his life that was always there for him no matter what... his partner in crime...

Arthur sat up beside her once he realized she was awake and seized his glasses from the bedside table. She looked at him and smiled sadly, squeezing his hand a bit. He smiled back, and when he did, Molly could see the young, fiery redhead she had fallen in love with all those years ago at Hogwarts.

"I bet the kids are still asleep," he said. Molly nodded a bit, thinking about her sleeping family all in the living room. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, Percy, Charlie, Bill and Fleur were all asleep on the carpet, couch and in the armchairs that surrounded the fireplace downstairs. They had dozed off together, all of them wanting to be there to comfort one another. Molly was sure George appreciated it the most.

"I should go cook breakfast," Molly said dutifully, moving to get out of bed, but Arthur grabbed her arm.

"They'll be asleep for hours if they have the choice, Molly," he said, keeping her from getting up, "And you should sleep in too. Lay back down and rest."

Molly smiled at her husband, knowing he was right. She was just as tired as everyone else, and she was sure they didn't want to be woken.

"Just this once."

Harry sat in the garden of the Burrow, leaning back on the arm of the swing, stretched out across the length of it. He had hardly slept, since he kept seeing and feeling that moment where he was sure he was dead, and the sheer terror he had felt in Dumbledore's office the night before. He kept hearing Hermione, Ron and Ginny's voices in his head as they cried out his name when Hagrid had carried his lifeless body into the Great Hall.

The sunrise had been beautiful over the treetops of the countryside where the Burrow was. Harry wondered if he would ever feel more at home, though, than he felt with the Weasleys and at Hogwarts.

He jumped a bit as a figure apparated beyond the gate, which was barely in his line of vision. He squinted a bit, not moving, watching to see who it was. He relished the fact, for a moment, that he didn't have to run and hide at the sight of someone he didn't know. His hand did, however, instinctively move towards the handle of his wand.

It was only Andromeda, he realized, then with a pang remembered she had lost her entire family over the past few months. Ted Tonks had died a while back, but her daughter and son-in-law had died only hours ago.

Harry stood up quickly, wanting to be respectful. He then realized she had something in her arms, and it was moving...

"Teddy," he said with a smile, moving towards her, meeting her on the steps. The resemblance she bore to her sister did not bother him anymore, since he had seen Bellatrix die the day before at Molly Weasley's hand.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tonks," Harry said, his hands in his pockets. She offered him a small smile, which meant a lot to Harry. It meant something that, in all her grief, she could find a smile for him.

"Hello, Harry," she said in a rather small voice that didn't quite match the self possessed woman he had briefly met nearly a year ago. Harry glanced down at the bundle in her arms and noticed that the child had aquamarine hair. He grinned a bit.

"So this is my godson?" he said. Andromeda nodded and handed Teddy over to him. Harry grinned broadly, making a solemn, silent vow to the baby in his arms that he would be the consistent, funny, supportive godfather that he knew Sirius had always wanted to be for him. He owed Sirius, Remus and Tonks that much, at least.

Andromeda looked sadly at the baby. "I don't think they expected to... die so soon," she explained, stumbling over the word 'die', "so in their wills it says that he's to be left with you if they died before he came of age."

Harry looked up suddenly. "I'm 18. How's that supposed to work?"

"Thats what I wanted to know. I think... I'm sure you're a fine person, but I think he'd be better off with me...  
She spoke as though she was afraid he would be angry and run away with Teddy, but Harry shook his head, rocking Teddy as he stirred and sitting back down on the swing, leaving room for Andromeda to join him, which she did.

"I'm sure he would be. I've got to go back to Hogwarts and figure my life out. I don't know what its like to be normal, so thats going to be hard. So I'll legally surrender him to you on one condition,"

"And whats that?" she said, looking as though she'd be willing to give him everything she had just to keep her grandson --- the last living part of her husband and daughter --- with her.

"You have to let me spoil him. No limits. I want to teach him to play Quidditch and buy him his first broomstick. I want half the presents under the Christmas tree to be from Santa, which would be me, and, this is important, I want to get him an owl, so he can write to me."

Andromeda looked flabbergasted. Teddy woke up, but did not cry, and amused himself with the top button of Harry's shirt. He smiled at the baby, wondering for a moment if he would have any children, and knew that even if he did, Teddy would be a big part of his life. That was how he wanted it.

"I want to be there for him, Mrs. Tonks," Harry explained, "Sirius always wanted to be a good godfather for me, but he never got the chance, and Remus always tried to help me the best he could, and Tonks was always very kind to me, and I feel like I owe it to them to be a good influence on Teddy here."

She looked close to tears as she reached over and stroked Teddy's vibrant hair. "You sound so much like your father," she said, and Harry smiled.

"You can't mourn them, you know," he said, earning himself a reproachful look, "They died for a cause they believed in. Unfortunately, that cause somehow gets translated into 'keeping that damn Potter kid alive' in polite conversation, but really, they died because they believed in equality among wizard kind. I can't speak for Tonks, but I know that Remus wouldn't have had it any other way."

"Tonks wouldn't have either," she said, and Harry heard noise coming from inside. Andromeda stood up quickly. Harry didn't move and just held his godson.

"Stay for breakfast, Mrs. Tonks," he said, hearing Hermione's voice from inside. Andromeda shook her head.

"I can't. I'm one of them to everyone just because I'm a part of that family."

"But you're not. Remus and Tonks were our friends, so you're our friend too. Besides, everyone will want to meet Teddy."

Andromeda looked uncomfortable, and jumped when Charlie leaned out of the back door and looked at them. He looked confused at the sight of Andromeda until he recognized her.

"Mrs. Tonks?" he said, stepping all the way out. She nodded a bit and Harry stood up, watching as they shook hands. He held Teddy up, who was starting to get antsy, grinning as though it were his own son he was showing off.

"See, Charlie? 'S my godson, Teddy, Remus and Tonks's son."

Charlie smiled and leaned over, looking at the baby, whose hair was starting to turn a brilliant shade of green.

"Hmmm... looks like his mum."

Breakfast was a confused, happy occasion where Teddy was passed around, tickled and cooed over, more by Ginny than anyone. Harry realized this was the first time he had really watched her with a child, and she seemed to be a natural. For the briefest moment, he saw the two of them with three or four children on a grassy patch of land with a picnic, smiling and laughing in the sunshine...

"I can't wait to have grandchildren," Harry heard Molly tell Andromeda. The two of them were sitting at the end of the table talking, and he was glad to see it looked like they were getting along. He was quite sure Andromeda was rather alone at this point.

" "Zat might be 'appening sooner 'zan you theenk," Fleur said, taking a hearty bite id sausage.

Silence fell on the table as though she had confessed to murder. She looked around, though not uncomfortably, Harry noticed, and smiled weakly at Mrs. Weasley. He saw Bill wink at his father when he thought no one was looking.

"How much sooner than I think?" Molly said. Fleur gave her a devilish grin that brought out the veela in her structure.

" 'Zat all depends on eef you were theenking about around seven months from now..."

There erupted from the table such a mighty combination of squeals and cries of jubilation that Harry could not hear his own congratulations towards the couple. Molly was immediately hugging Fleur and Bill, while Charlie and Ron laughed. Percy shook Bill's hand across the table, and Arthur couldn't have looked prouder. Even forlorn George found a smile for his brother and a congratulations for his sister in law.

"We talked last night," said Bill after the noise died down a bit, "and decided that if its a girl we'll name her Victiore, and if its a boy, his name will be Fred."

George looked up, his long hair nearly completely obscuring the fact that he was missing an ear, and looked to Bill.

"But with a father like you, there's really no guarantee that it'll be either a boy or a girl, you know. We still haven't gotten you figured out."

A strange silence settled over the Weasley's dining room table. George had hardly spoken at all since kneeling beside Fred's head in the Great Hall, and no one had blamed him. The general, silent consensus was that, if George could start joking again, the rest of them could as well. The conversation turned back to near normal.

Ginny smiled at Teddy sitting on Harry's lap and ruffled his now orange hair. "One day I want to have a family," she told Harry. He grinned a bit.

"Me too. Lots of kids and a big house."

"Define lots?"


	4. Divide and Conquer

Author's Note: I know this took a while, but I was busy and I wanted to try to write a better chapter. I've tried to include everyone's point of view here.

Please enjoy!

Generally, Hermione was a very sweet person. She didn't like to see people suffering, and she almost always had a good grasp of how someone was feeling. It was part of what made it so easy for her to be so close to Harry and Ron, who very rarely wore their hearts on their sleeves. In a way, it was her gift.

Which was why Harry was very startled to hear her laughing manically when she read the Daily Prophet that afternoon.

"Those bastards," she said, still laughing darkly. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"What?" he said. He was pulling on his best pair of robes as Ron lay on his bed, Hermione sitting at the edge of Harry's cot which was shoved up against the wall. He was getting ready to go to the headquarters of the Daily Prophet to do an interview. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Bill were coming too, for which Harry was grateful. Reporters scared him.

"They've rounded up most of the Death Eaters. Except the Malfoys and those closest to them," she said, angrily folding up the newspaper and setting it aside before crawling over to Ron and laying down beside him.

"Narcissa saved my life," Harry said, leaning on the door frame, "I'm glad she got out of it. And as much as I hate Draco, Azkaban isn't what he deserves."

"Nah," Ron said, "I think he just deserves Filch's old set of punishments."

Hermione laughed tensely.

Ginny slipped into the room beside Harry. She was wearing a pretty dark green sun dress that, for a moment, made Harry's mouth water. She smiled and sat on his bed, crossing her legs in a way that deviated from her usual tomboyish manner.

"Why do I have to go?" Ginny asked, folding her arms. Hermione sat up a bit.

"Because its a show of good faith."

"You go and show good faith. I want to go flying."

"We'll go shopping afterwards," Harry said. Both girls looked up at the word. Harry suddenly wished he hadn't said anything.

"Shopping?" Hermione said. It was one of the few girly traditions she really took part in, Harry knew, though she did love the bookstore more than she loved trying on shoes.

"Why do we need to go shopping?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged a little. "I figured we'd need some new clothes and stuff since we're going away."

"I thought Mrs. Weasley talked you out of that idea," Hermione said. She and Ron were both getting up, glancing at the clock.

Ginny shook her head and Harry looked over to her. "I don't think we should go away this summer," she said, standing up and straightening her dress.

"Why not?" Harry asked, folding his arms. He had thought it was an inspired idea, getting away and forgetting about everything, only to come back and find that they were set for their first, and only, normal year at Hogwarts.

Ginny folded her arms in return, standing facing him. "Don't you think we should stick around and chill out? You've been through an awful ordeal, Harry, whether or not you want to admit it to yourself. And you and Ron and Hermione are exhausted. And I don't mean you need a nap. Its a different kind of tired. I can see it in them, and I can see it in you. You need to rest."

Deep down, reluctant as he was to admit it, Harry knew she was right. The way his body had ached when he had woken up that morning was a telltale sign of deep exhaustion --- or was that just the result of sleeping on a camp bed for so long?

"All right... next summer."

Hermione nodded, straightening her shirt and tugging her hair tighter into its ponytail. "You do need some time, Harry. You've been through a lot."

"We all have, haven't we?" he said, walking with them downstairs. His insides were writhing --- honestly, he didn't want to talk about all the things that had happened. They were quite painful, and he knew there would be questions about the wand and about his parents and his comment about Horcruxes that he had made in front of everyone that had been in the Great Hall and about what he had said about Snape. That would be, perhaps, the most interesting topic of all, and possibly the most painful for Harry.

Since he had finally gotten sleep after Voldemort's death, he had looked at the Snape situation from every angle. He had, no doubt, honestly loved Harry's mother, but had hated Harry until his final breath. But somehow Harry couldn't hate him. He knew that above all else, Snape had defended him, and ultimately died to do so, because had had loved Lily, and that was enough for Harry to forgive, even if he couldn't forget.

"I want to get this over with. And then I want to go get a new broom. My Firebolt got lost. And then I want ice cream," Harry said.

"Somebody's feeling a bit reckless with his funds," Ginny chortled as they reached the kitchen. True to form, Ron reached out and seized a bagel from the bread basket at the center of the table and took a good-sized bite from it. Hermione shook her head, sliding her bag up on her shoulder, and Harry looked to Ginny.

"Well, maybe... but I'm in a good mood...", he replied weakly.

Ron spoke through a half-mouthfull of food. "Can you feel You-Know-Who's soul not being there, Harry?", he asked, "Is there like... a hole or something?"

Harry considered his question for a moment, folding his arms. "I wouldn't call it a hole, exactly," he said slowly, trying to chose his words carefully, "I'd call it... more like weight. Like something that was trying to keep me from being me. Corruption, I guess, and it got worse and worse as time went on."

Hermione and Ron nodded, but a strange, worried look crossed Ginny's face. Harry wanted to ask her what was wrong, but Hermione interrupted.

"We should get going," she said, still in control as usual. _Some things never change, _Harry thought.

The Daily Prophet Headquarters were much more interesting that Harry could have imagined. It was buzzing with excitement with bulletin boards covered with the latest news and photos covering mostly every wall, people dashing about, quickly trading gossip as they passed and Quick-Quotes Quills scribbled away as witches and wizards behind old, worn desks multi tasked. Through a window, Harry was sure he spotted three people staring at the next issue of the newspaper that was 20 times its normal size tacked to a wall, rearranging the words with their wands to form shapes.

Despite all this action, Harry felt rather annoyed, sitting across the table from three reporters from the Daily Prophet and a fourth from Witch Weekly. He had expected one, lone reporter, who would ask normal questions about the downfall of Voldemort and maybe take a few pictures. This was not the case.

One reporter from the Daily Prophet was talking with Hermione about the rather technical aspects of how they had stayed safe over the past few months while they were on the run. The second, who sat across from Ron, was discussing the people involved in what was now to be called "Opperation Potter." Harry wondered if they could have put a more ridiculous label on the entire situation that surrounded the destroying of the Horcruxes.

Harry was glad, now that they were giving their stories separately, that the three of them had agreed not to mention the Deathly Hallows. Ron thought it would be fun to be recognized as the people who had united them, but Harry felt differently. The last thing he wanted was somebody getting too interested and trying to unite them themselves. The way things had been settled, the three powerful objects would never be in the hands of one man or woman ever again.

The reporter from Witch Weekly, a plump, but pretty young woman was talking fervently with Ginny about Harry. It was obviously public knowledge now that she was involved with him, and details of their relationship were in demand. Harry only hoped she didn't go into too much detail...

"But he's really a normal guy, you know?" he heard her say as the reporter, obviously the most seasoned of the three Prophet reporters, that had taken him, had paused the interview to retrieve another pad of paper from a room nearby. Ginny seemed calm and collected, leaning forward a bit into the table, "He's a good man, really. When I look at him, I don't see a hero. He's Harry. And thats more important. I'm guessing thats not what you wanted to hear?"

Harry smiled a bit as his reporter, a balding, thin man with tufts of gray hair returned and sat back down.

"Now where were we?" he asked. Though they had only been at it for about a half an hour, Harry had all ready formed a completely developed opinion of the reporter. He didn't like him. He could see the wheels working in his head all ready, trying to figure out how to twist all of Harry's words to paint an unflattering portrait of him. Silently, Harry thanked Rita Skeeter for teaching him that anyone out to sell papers wasn't worth trusting.

"You were trying to make me incriminate myself, somehow," Harry prompted.

"Oh, yes, yes," the man said absently. _Well_, Harry thought_, at least he's honest._

"It wasn't that hard," he heard Hermione say, though she said it modestly, "I had made sure I knew how to perform the spells before attempting them when we really needed them to work, of course. I didn't want anything bad to happen..."

"And then there was this loud noise and we all saw Hagrid at the doors. It wasn't until McGonagall screamed did we realize that it was Harry he was carrying," Ron said, his voice alight with excitement as he worked his way through the tale of the battle.

"So, Mr. Potter. Tell us about Severus Snape. Word on the street is that you told He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that you had evidence to prove he was innocent?"

Harry sighed deeply and spoke slowly, "Just say his name. _Voldemort_. He's not going to appear beside you and kill you. He's dead."

The man just nodded and continued pressing about Snape. Though it was a difficult topic, Harry spoke the truth, wanting to clear the name and reputation of the man who had put his life on the line more than once to save the son of the man he hated and the woman he loved.

Dean sat waiting impatiently at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. She was late, and he was anxious. It was a habit to be worried when one of your friends didn't show up --- over the past year it indicated some sort of tragedy had befallen them, like a Death Eater attack or snatchers catching up with them.

But, despite his anxiousness, Dean knew this was to be expected. He was, after all, waiting on Luna Lovegood.

It was the strangest thing, to feel so attracted to her while he was in the care of the Weasleys. They had forged a friendship he had not expected in the slightest, and in a way, it was frightening. Dean had never been much of a ladies man, since he usually preferred hanging out with his friends to flirting, and so he lacked the experience that many of his friends had. And with someone who was so... unorthodox, he was all ready behind the 8-ball.

When the door swung open, he looked up expectantly, but saw not Luna, but a rather legendary quartet that he found himself proud to be associated with. His having been included in Dumbledore's Army, which had backed Harry Potter since its inception was no doubt every member's finest hour.

And then there was Ginny. He and Ginny had been a couple for quite a long time, and when he saw her it often gave him a bit of a start. She was beautiful, yes, but her fiery spirit wasn't one he could match and Dean had accepted that. He knew he needed someone fun and playful, and Ginny's passion for adventure often separated them.

She smiled at him and slid onto a barstool near him. He looked beyond her to see Hermione, Harry and Ron laughing as they sat down as well.

"How are you all?" Dean asked, leaning forward to get a clear view of them.

"We're good," Ron answered, then turning to Tom to order five butterbeers and some food.

"What have you been up to, Dean?" Hermione asked anxiously, turning towards him, "We didn't get to talk to you yesterday."

Dean nodded, "Naturally, you didn't. But things have been... as well as can be expected. I've been staying with your family, Ron," he said, nodding to the elder of the present Weasley siblings, "And its been good."

With that, the bell on the door rang again, and Luna entered the pub. She smiled her airy, but confident smile at them and sat beside Dean at the bar. The four newcomers were temporarily in shock when they saw Dean lean over and kiss Luna lightly.

"Didn't Dean tell you?" Luna asked, her voice as soft as ever, "We're together. Though I prefer not to put labels on things."

Dean nodded in agreement. Ginny smiled at him a bit --- she harbored no lingering romantic feelings for him, and simply wanted to see her friend happy. She squeezed Harry's hand under the bar, watching them.

"It seems like everyone's pairing off, doesn't it?" Dean pointed out. Hermione considered it for a moment --- it certainly did. Luna and Dean, herself and Ron, Ginny and Harry, Draco and Pansy (everyone had either seen or heard of their relieved embrace in the corner of the Great Hall during the feast following the battle), and even Neville had begun having better luck with girls only moments after beheading a horcrux (he had been surrounded by mostly female admirers afterwards).

It was a good thing, Hermione thought, as long as it made people happy. But they couldn't forget about their friends. Despite the fact that strong bonds were no longer truly essential for survival in a world where there really were the good guys and the villains, it was still important to keep the people you had grown to love close.

She looked out the window, thinking about all that had happened over the past few days --- the sun was setting and she knew that the world was safer now. Hermione was glad to know that she was a part of what had made it possible to be a wizard without fear, but for now, all she wanted was to get her family back and finally tell them the whole story with her friends by her side.

A/N: I would like to point out that there are some amazing FanArt artists out there who show their support for Harry Potter. If you have time, visit and search for Harry Potter, or take a look at The artist there is absolutely fantastic.


	5. The Weight of Words

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the reviews! I'm glad someone likes it, since this is my first multi-chapter fanfic. I hope you like this chapter too.

Ginny had always greatly appreciated Hermione's company, but they had never really been given time to forge a real friendship since she was always up to something with Harry and Ron, or was studying. So when Hermione asked for Ginny's assistance in packing, she was grateful to spend a little time with someone she had looked up to in her first years at Hogwarts.

"I'm just not sure what I'm going to need when I go to Australia," Hermione said, holding up a t-shirt for inspection. Ginny had always appreciated Hermione's very casual style of jeans and t-shirts, since it was so very similar to her own.

"Just a few things. You'll be coming right back, won't you?" Ginny asked, handing Hermione what she knew was her favorite pair of jeans.

Hermione shrugged. "I expect so," she said, taking them and laying them in a neat stack of clothes that were obviously intended for packing, "It shouldn't take more than a week, should it? Get down there, lift the enchantment, help them pack their things and come home. I expect we'll take a little time to see Sydney, since thats where they are, but other than that..."

Hermione trailed off. Ginny expected she wanted to get back to England as quickly as possible, but you could never tell with Hermione. It was part of what made her so fascinating. Sometimes she was gripped by the possibility of learning something new and wanted to explore everything about it, but sometimes she was completely human and wanted to just be with her friends and have fun.

"Ron's looking forward to going," Ginny prompted, setting a pretty pink shirt of her own that Hermione had always liked in the to-pack pile (they were sharing the room), "I think he wants to spend some time with you without Harry, you know."

A soft smile crept across Hermione's face at those words. Ginny grinned a little. She knew that Ron was very happy with his relationship with Hermione, and if her friend was happy with it to, what could be better?

"I'm looking forward to that too," Hermione said, though she added quickly, "Not that I don't enjoy spending time with Harry. I love him to death."

Ginny laughed a bit, tossing Hermione's toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner into the bag Hermione had set on the bed. "I know you do. You know, for the longest time, I thought it was going to be you and Harry. You two were always so close," she said.

Hermione shook her head, taking a light yellow sundress of hers and folding it carefully. "No. Since we met, Harry was my brother. I've relied on him and trusted him with things I couldn't trust anyone else with. You know... the things I'm sure you turn to Ron and Fred and George with."

What ever sort of smile was on Ginny's face faded quickly. Hearing Fred's name passed around the way it had been only days before was difficult, though she knew Hermione hadn't meant it. As she sank down onto her bed, Hermione was all ready apologizing.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry!" she said, sitting beside her, "I didn't mean ---"

"I know you didn't," Ginny said, waving a hand of dismissal, "I did the same thing yesterday with that reporter. Something came up and I referred to _my brother Fred._"

"He'll always be your brother, Ginny," Hermione said, "And he's watching over you. Now you just can't yell at him for it."

A defiant little laugh escaped Ginny's lips and Hermione smiled weakly.

"I know, but its just hard to realize that he's not going to burst through the doors on a Friday night and yell '_You are not going to believe what Lee ate tonight!'_ like he almost always did."

"They were crazy, weren't they?" Hermione said. Her voice was shaking a bit.

Ginny looked to her, her eyes completely dry. If there was one thing she could thank Fred and George for, it was toughening her up enough to know how not to cry whens she didn't want to. "He wouldn't want us to be sad. He would just want us to remember him... and raise a lot of Hell next year at school."

Hermione nodded a little, smiling.

"You're the best in your year, aren't you, Ginny?" Hermione asked, playing with a charm on her bracelet idly as though it were just something to occupy her hands.

"Yeah. I guess when I was younger I wanted to be like you, and I tried so hard that it kind of sank in," she admitted, unashamed.

"Why would you want to be like me?" Hermione asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"You always seemed so in-control and confident. It was like you didn't need someone to validate you as a person, and I wanted to be like that too."

Hermione laughed, much to Ginny's surprise. She laid back on Ginny's pillows a bit, looking at her. "Are you kidding? I was so insecure until fourth year. I think having Viktor Krum, everyone's hero, wrapped around my finger was a big confidence booster."

"What ever happened with you two anyway?" Ginny asked.

Hermione smilied devilishly. "Well, after fourth year we wrote a lot, but I was really busy with the D.A. And with backing Harry on everything. And S.P.E.W., of course," she added, ignoring Ginny's eye-roll out of habit, "and we kind of drifted apart. I cared about him, of course, but..."

"But there was always Ron?" Ginny filled in. Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Always Ron."

"I felt that way about Harry, I guess," Ginny said thoughtfully, "I dated other guys, trying to forget how much I cared for him. It wasn't just a crush where I wanted his attention, but I really cared about him, and that scared me."

Hermione smiled at her, and Ginny laid down on the bed beside her friend, her bare feet propped up on the windowsill. "I knew you did," the elder of the two girls said with the air of one speaking to her own younger sister, "But there was nothing I could have done. I would have only made it worse."

Ginny nodded, understanding. "But what matters is that we're all where we belong now."

"Do you think me and Ron will make it?" Hermione asked. The question seemed laughable.

"Of course. You should hear the way he talks about you when you're not there," Ginny said, pausing for a moment, "Do you think me and Harry will make it?"

"Of course you will. You should see the way he looks at you when you're not watching him."

They laid there for a moment, basking in that moment where everything seemed to be falling into place as much as it possibly could, enjoying the feeling for once that no huge evil could befall them in the next twenty minutes.

"So," Hermione said, looking at Ginny, "If you're Head Girl, I'm totally going to kick your ass and taking your badge."

London Heathrow Airport was bustling with activity as the Weasleys and Harry stood at the security line, waiting to see Hermione and Ron off on their trip to Australia. Armed with enough sandwiches to feed a full AirBus packed into Hermione's now-legendary beaded handbag (it was featured in Witch Weekly in the edition released that day), they stood at the gateway, Ron confused as usual.

"I don't understand why we can't floo," he said, his backpack sitting at his feet, "I mean, I know its too far to apparate, but why can't we use the floo network?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, looking up at him, "Because the floo network isn't international, Ron," she said, "And the Ministry is just being reestablished, so getting a portkey would take too long to get authorized. This is safest, considering we can't bring my parents back by portkey either."

"Was all of that in _Hogwarts a History _too?" he asked.

Hermione gave him a haughty look and looked to Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Weasley. I really appreciate everything you've done for us," she said. Mrs. Weasley, still dressed in black from Fred's funeral that morning and Remus and Tonks' funeral that afternoon dismissed her thanks as though having two extra people in her house was normal.

"Its nothing," she said, placing her hands on Hermione's shoulders, "Have you got everything, dear? Good. Now you just bring your parents back to us until you can get your affairs in order, all right?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, and the two women hugged as Ron hugged his brothers. Even Percy had come to say goodbye.

"Be careful," Mr. Weasley said, hugging Ron goodbye as Hermione embraced each of the Weasley clan in turn. Finally, she made it to Harry after he was done saying goodbye to Ron.

"I'll see you soon," she said, a bit teary. It was hard to say goodbye to Harry after they had been joined at the hip for nearly a year and after they had been though so much together. He had been there for her when Ron had left and she had stood with him when no one else could, and now, for the first time in seven years she was going a place he couldn't follow. Though she was profoundly thankful that Ron was coming with her and that they had such an outstanding bond, she and Harry too had a bond that was quite profound.

"Have fun, all right? You've earned it," he said, hugging her tight and holding on for a moment, "When you get back everything will be as perfect as it can be."

She nodded a bit, kissing his cheek as he kissed hers, pulling away and feeling Ron wrap his arm around her waist. They turned, walking through the security gateway together, turning around only for a moment to wave goodbye.

And then they were gone.

Harry looked after Ron and Hermione for a moment before he felt the tug of Ginny's hand on his and Mrs. Weasley's voice not too far from him.

"We can just take the floo network home," she was saying. Apparating was still risky since the monitoring enchantments that the previously corrupt ministry had installed were being removed. The Prophet had advised that very day that all wizards and witches avoid apparation if they could in favor of using floo powder.

"Yeah," said Percy, who had kept very quiet since Fred's funeral (Harry suspected he blamed himself), "the Leaky Cauldron isn't too far..."

"I was hoping maybe we could walk around London a bit..." Ginny said, obviously disappointed.

"No, dear. I've got to make dinner," said Mrs. Weasley, who would rather die than let a stranger cook for her family.

Harry looked up to her, "I'll stay here with Ginny, Mrs. Weasley," he said, holding Ginny's hand tight, "I kind of wanted to roam about as well."

She considered him for a moment. Ginny looked a bit annoyed that her mother even had to think about it, and seemed grateful when it was her father who spoke first.

"All right," said Arthur, "But be back at home by 7:30."

"Promise," Ginny said, kissing her father's cheek before squeezing her father's hand. Together, they all headed toward the main doors that lead to the taxis and the streets that headed toward the heart of London.

"Did you think Fred's funeral suited him?" Percy asked Harry quietly as they headed towards the doors. Harry nodded a little.

"I do. I think he would have especially liked it when George set off fireworks at the end. You know how much he loved the fireworks."

Percy smiled a bit, though he looked sad at the same time. Harry figured he was feeling quite guilty about all the time he had lost with his family and especially with Fred. Harry looked ahead to see George with his arm wrapped around his mother's slightly sagging shoulders. All in all, Harry thought the Weasley family was doing an amazing job of keeping things together with the loss of a son and two close family friends. He was sure it was because they all knew that their lost loved ones would not have wanted them to be sad when there was so much to be happy about.

"I think so too," Percy said, before looking ahead again. For a moment, Harry was sure he could see the Percy he had met when he was 11, when all of his ambition had been nothing more than just a need to do well, and at heart he had still been a good person. He hoped that, for his mother's sake if no one else's, Percy hadn't changed too much.

When they got outside, Harry and Ginny said their goodbyes to the Weasley's as they got into a separate taxi and asked the driver to take them anywhere in central London.

"Its about fifteen miles, mate," the man said, looking in his rear view mirror at Harry. He nodded a bit.

"Just take us to Big Ben. I know that area."

Once, about a year before he had gone to Hogwarts, the Dursley's had decided to take Dudley to see the sights in London. Of course, everything had gone wrong and so they had wound up taking Harry as well, and he had conveniently gotten lost for three hours. For a short, glorious time he had been on his own in a fascinating new place, and now, he wanted to see if everything was as wonderful as he remembered it.

Ginny listened with an amused smile as Harry told her about this, idly playing with his fingers as he talked. Just as they were getting into the busier part of London, she spoke.

"So you want to just walk around?" she said. Harry nodded.

"If thats what you want."

She nodded a little. She didn't want to tell Harry that she could only window shop anyway, since she had no money, wizard or muggle. She knew he kept a little bit of muggle cash on him, which would be good for a drink or snack if they wanted, but she didn't want him to buy her anything. His caring was enough for her right then when material things seemed so pointless.

Nearly an hour and a half later, Harry and Ginny were in a cozy little corner of London where quite a few shops were located. Ginny pointed happily at the things in the windows that she found pretty, and Harry just smiled, taking mental notes of what she liked and didn't like. Though he loved her unconditionally, he had not been given much time to really watch her and see the things that she really loved and what she really hated.

"Ooooh... its so shiny," she said, pointing at a thin gold bracelet that formed a diamond chain in the window of a jewelry store. Indeed, it was pretty, and Harry glanced at the price. He had been looking for something to get her for her birthday that would make up for the one he had just barely missed last year, and for Christmas as well. He watched how she admired it for a moment and mentally counted the muggle money in his pocket. He just barely had enough...

They made their way hand in hand into the bookstore next door. Ginny quickly became lost in the teen fiction section of the store, looking through the first few pages of the book _Wicked Lovely_. Harry had to say her name a few times before she heard him once she had become completely immersed.

"Ginny? I'm going to go find a book on motorcycles for your dad, all right?" he said. She nodded and smiled brightly at him.

"All right."

Harry, knowing he had only a few moments to spare, rushed from the store from the exit that was out of Ginny's sight and ran to the jewelry store. Within moments, a long, thin, dark blue box was safely in his back pocket, and he was skimming the shelves for the automotive books.

He quickly gathered a book on motorcycle repair into his arms and raced back up the stairs to Ginny. Catching his breath, he located her amongst the shelves.

"Ready to go?" he asked. She nodded and, with a slight look of regret, slid the book back onto the shelf. Harry pulled it back off and glanced at it. He would be down to his last pound until he got back to Gringotts...

He walked with her down to the checkout and, despite her protests, bought her the book. He knew that she needed something to take her mind off of things for a while, and what was better than a good book?

"Really, Harry, its not that important..."

"Why not? I might want to read it too."

"Believe me. You don't want to."

Judging by the cover, she was probably right. He shrugged a bit and handed over the money, receiving little change, then carried the bag out, Ginny beside him.

"Thanks, Harry," she said meekly. He knew the whole Weasley clan was a bit sensitive to gift giving and the throwing about of money. He turned to her, prepared to end that where the two of them are concerned.

"Gin, don't worry about it okay? I love you. I want to do things that make you happy," he said, not realizing exactly what he had done until he had done it.

"You lo--- what?"

A/N: Tell me what you think!!!


	6. Sibling Rivalry

A/N: I do realize that Harry said that he loved her publicly in the Great Hall, and I can't speak for anyone else, but I know that a public declaration like that would not register with me. Standing in the streets of London, alone where no one knows their story and who he is would seem much more intimate and the words would matter so much more. At least thats how I would feel.

I understand that my story is lacking in some technical things (like indentations and my intended gaps between some paragraphs), so please, if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know. Is there some HTML thing I need to put in to made my indentations show up?

Please let me know what you think! Getting reviews makes me happy. Especially the good ones.

Andromeda Tonks's house was quiet. It needed to be that way if baby Teddy was to stay asleep. Thankfully, he had just begun sleeping through the night. Andromeda was taking advantage of the quiet moment between the time when Teddy fell asleep and when she herself would collapse in exhaustion onto her bed and slumber until the cries of the baby in the next room would wake her sometime near dawn.

A novel lay open in her lap as she sat in her favorite chair by the fire. The chair opposite her, the one that used to be occupied by her husband every night, was filled only by the stuffed animal that Ted Tonks had carried as a child. Though his death had come a while before, she could not bear to remove his chair yet. Perhaps it would one day be filled by the sleeping child upstairs as he learned to read or as he played with one of his favorite toys in the evenings.

A soft knock pulled Andromeda from her musings, and she looked up. Through the window in the door, she could see a head of blond hair. Confused, she got up and moved to open the door, and found herself quite shocked with who stood beyond it.

"Hello, 'Dromeda," Narcissa said, her posture quite deviated from how it was normally. She looked a great deal shorter with her shoulders slumped like that, and her hair looked natural --- not its usual perfectly styled appearance.

"Can I help you?" Andromeda said coolly. She did not approve of her younger sister's affiliations and actions, but Harry had told her after breakfast at the Weasley's only days before that she had been involved in what had kept Harry alive in the forest, so Andromeda felt that she owed Narcissa at least the chance to explain while she was there. Politely, she stepped back, letting her sister into her home, quite aware of the sleeping baby upstairs.

Narcissa stepped in, looking nervous and uncomfortable. She looked to her older sister with quiet desperation in her eyes. "Andromeda," she said, wringing her hands, "I'm so sorry. I realized that this was all wrong quite a while ago... more than a year when it really hit me. Lucius did too, and... I'm so sorry... I know I can't fix it, but you're my sister, a-and I felt I had to try."

Andromeda watched her sibling closely. She wanted to believe her, and was finding it quite easy given Narcissa's posture and the look in her eyes, though not once did she meet Andromeda's gaze.

"You're right," Andromeda said, leaning on the counter of the kitchen, where they were standing, "You can't fix it. My husband, daughter and son-in-law are dead. You can talk all you want about feeling that Voldemort's cause was wrong, but I grew up with you, Cissy. You never liked half-breeds or muggle-born's. And in your eyes my daughter was simply a freak."

Narcissa looked down. She shuffled her feet a bit, feeling very much like a teenager whose big sister had caught her in the act of doing something against the rules, like sneaking out or doing drugs, but a hundred times worse.

"My son nearly died. All I wanted was for my family to be back together. I just wanted us safe ---"

"Thats all I wanted to, Narcissa," Andromeda interrupted, her voice firm and resolute, "Thats all any of us wanted."

Narcissa began to cry. Andromeda, though she held very little sympathy for the woman before her, understood what she felt.

"Sit down," Andromeda said, gesturing her to the couch. It was her way of offering comfort. Andromeda had always been the kindest of the sisters, always the most nurturing. She watched as Narcissa slid into the seat, and held her silence for a moment.

"I'm so sorry, 'Dromeda. So sorry..."

"You're going to have to prove that, 'Cissy," Andromeda said, pouring water into a kettle and setting the kettle on the stove to heat.

Narcissa looked up at her sister. "How can I do that?"

"Act like you're a member of the family. Act like you give a damn about someone else in the world. Act like you understand that people... a lot of people... died for what you once professed to believing in. And then act like you care that those people have people who loved them left behind."

Narcissa nodded, solemn, and Andromeda knew that the weight of everything that was happening was starting to settle in. She remembered when they were children that the truth was always difficult for Narcissa to truly grasp and feel when it was something heavy. The look on her face gave Andromeda confidence in the fact that, deep down, Narcissa still had a heart.

George wasn't sure why he wanted to be there, that day of all days. His feet had simply carried him to the apparition point just outside The Burrow and he found himself on Diagon Alley. And now he was facing the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes storefront in all of its brightly colored glory.

Fred had always been the bolder of the two of them, and at the same time he had been the harsher. George had always been looked over in favor of Fred, who was quicker to joke and to criticize as well. Still, he had been a good man, and George had respected him.

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. He chose the one he needed and unlocked the door, stepping inside. In the twilight, the store was dark and dusty looking, though he knew that had always been the plan. Fred had always wanted a store that looked different at different times of day, and this one had seemed perfect, in theory, because it would seem shady and slightly creepy at night --- perfect for Halloween, their favorite holiday aside from April Fool's Day..._ our birthday_...

_My birthday_, he corrected himself. It was all his own now, as was this store and everything they had built together. He would have to accept that, and George knew that it would take time.

Silently, he walked to the counter and pulled out a stack of unfilled orders. He laid them out and began boxing up what needed to box and, taking twice the time it used to take, he did the work, alone for the first time...

Harry stared at Ginny, slightly frightened of what he had said. He realized that it was true beyond a shadow of a doubt. He loved her... and if he had harbored any lack of faith in that fact, he had just proved to himself that he loved her. He had said it without thinking, when he had only been speaking what he was feeling.

"I-I said I love you..." he stammered a bit, quite conscious of the three feet between them, of the rain starting to pour and of the way the box in his pocket felt against his leg. He was quite aware of the weight of the books in his hand, how the breeze felt against his cheek and how Ginny's hair looked when it was combed by it.

Her honey-colored eyes were warm and her expression was a beautiful mixture of shock and curiosity. Her soft green shirt ruffled briefly beneath her worn corduroy jacket. Harry felt nervous, though strangely calm now that he had told her that he loved her with sincerity He had said that he loved her before, but this was different. This was real.

Tiny drops of rain began to fall on the London sidewalk. Dark circles formed on the pavement and Harry felt the small drops fall into his hair. Ginny hadn't moved for a few moments, so Harry was surprised when she grabbed him by the arms and pulled him under the awning of the bookstore window, and looked up at him with such intensity, that Harry felt strangely inclined to take a step back from her.

"Do you really?" Ginny asked. Tears glistened in her eyes, though she willed them not to be there, "Do you really love me? Because I won't be able to stand it if you suddenly change your mind and you don't. I've been hurt enough as it is Harry. I know other people have been through worse, but my breaking point is low. I've just lost my brother. Quite a few of my friends are dead. I'm still wearing off the shock and fear of seeing you dead. So don't say those words lightly, Harry, because I'm not sure you know how much I care about you..."

Her words, eloquent as she needed them to be, fell on Harry like warm summer rain.

"Ginny, I love you. I'm not good at saying the way I feel. Not like you. You're open and kind and you're not afraid to show it. I haven't lead the life you have. Maybe that explains it. But please believe that I love you," he said, his voice a quiet and weak sound that he wasn't used to hearing. He sounded as vulnerable as he felt.

He looked down at her as she stepped closer to him. A cold wind swept around them as the storm grew stronger and more violent. A visible shiver ran through Ginny, and Harry wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She folded into him instantly, turning her face into his chest and sliding her arms around his waist. Harry gratefully held her in return, turning his face down into her hair.

"I love you too, Harry," he heard her say, despite the fact that her face was buried in his shirt.

"I think I always loved you, Gin," he said, his hands gently running over her back out of both his want to warm her and his need to be as close to her as possible, "But I just didn't know it."

"I always loved you, Harry," she said, tilting her head up a bit. Harry found her lips with his own and embraced her tightly as he kissed her lovingly. His soul --- the one he was sure was entirely his own now --- felt free and uninhibited.

A/N: This is my shortest chapter, and I'm sorry. I'll get to work as soon as I can, but I don't know how long it will take me.

Thanks for reading! I'll update as fast as I can.

Please review.


	7. Moonlight and Darwin

A/N: Sorry for the wait. My life is changing a lot right now, so things might be pretty slow until it settles down again.

Hermione was absolutely exhausted and completely wired when she and Ron got off the plane in Australia. She had spent most of the trip curled up under her soft pink blanket with Ron, but while he had slept, she had been reading and drinking cup of coffee after cup of coffee. Though it was nearly midnight when they landed, she was quite energetic.

Ron, however, was groggy. He had slept through most of the trip to Darwin Australia, his head on Hermione's shoulder from time to time. She envied his ability to sleep anywhere, and often found herself gently stroking his hair as he slept.

He yawned as they made their way to the area where they could catch a cab. Hermione carried the beaded handbag in complete silence, though she clutched it as though her life depended on it, since it had everything they needed in it.

The taxis were lined up on the street, quickly taking passengers away. As soon as one left, another was there to take its place.

"Pick one," Hermione said, and followed Ron to the closest one that didn't seem to be occupied. She slid into the back of it with him and closed her eyes. There was comfort in the idea that she would soon see her parents and tell them all about her latest adventure, and finally tell them about how she felt for Ron. They'd get to meet him again ---- now as the man that he had grown into.

It had always confused her parents when she had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays and when she had elected to spend a great deal of her time at the Weasley's, and Hermione often expected that she had hurt them, which she greatly regretted, but many times it had been necessary. It was the only way for her to know what was truly going on in the wizarding world. Her world.

With Ron's arm wrapped around her, she felt pretty much at home. She slid across the seat to him, resting her head on his shoulders and gave the taxi driver the address of where her parents had been living. It had taken her quite a while to find their address on the internet, and when she did she had almost cried in relief. Monica and Wendell Wilkins had a dentistry practice set up in downtown Darwin, but it had taken Hermione nearly three hours at a library to figure out that looking for them through their jobs was the way to go.

_I'll close my eyes for just a moment_ --- she thought.

Forty five minutes later, she was being shaken awake by Ron.

"Hermione? Come on. We're here," he said.

She groaned a little and sat up, brushing the wisps of hair that had fallen from her braid back from her eyes and looked around. They were on a suburban street with perfectly manicured lawns and nice flower beds. In the distance, she could see the tall buildings and the lights of Darwin. It was indeed beautiful in the twilight hours, just as she had read.

She thought, slightly cynically, to herself, that some things never changed. As a child, Hermione had often found herself wondering which her parents had cared more for --- their daughter, or what the neighbors thought? Sometimes, when Harry had talked about the Dursley's and how they were so concerned wit appearances, she thought of her own parents and how they were always so focused on how the neighbors were doing things.

When Hermione had been accepted into Hogwarts, she had been afraid of what her parents would tell everyone they knew about their daughter's absence. Would they just say that she was off at boarding school? She wondered often if they were disgraced by her --- only pretending to be proud so they could convince themselves.

As they approached the door and passed two cars, indicating that her parents were indeed home, Hermione began to get nervous. After she lifted the enchantment, she knew they would be unconcious for an hour or so, but what then? What do you say to two people you bewitched into thinking they had completely different identities than they had merely a year prior?

Ron seemed to sense her tension and looked to her, standing still.

"Its going to be fine," he assured her. She looked up at him, reminded of why she cared about him so much. He was so kind and so gentle...

But she had never trusted him with the truth about how she felt about her family. She had never really let him in on all of her insecurities and all of the things that made her self conscious. There had been evenings when they had stayed up together talking when they had barely touched on it, but on instinct she had always backed away. Her family was not something she liked talking about --- as a whole, they put quite a bit of emphasis on appearance, which was not, inherently, Hermione's main concern.

She shook her head a little. "No, it won't. But we have to do it anyway."

Before he could ask too many questions, Hermione drew her wand from the waistband of her jeans and walked toward the door of the house, charming it open and walking in.

Her father was the first to see her. He yelled, flashing the large front teeth that his daughter had inherited from him as he did so. She pointed her wand at him from across the room and lifted the enchantment forcefully before rounding on her mother, who had backed herself up against the wall as she watched her husband sink to the ground, unconcious.

"Please, no," she pleaded, but Hermione wanted it over with. For only a second she saw Ron's worried and startled face before turning to her mother and quickly muttering the incantation that would remove the enchantment. Like her husband, she looked dazed for only a moment before sinking to the ground, lifeless.

Her face hardened, Hermione tucked her wand back into the waistband of her jeans and looked to her parents on the floor. She was so full of confused feelings for both of them that it felt like she was going to break from just feeling so much. Then again, she reminded herself, she had felt like that for quite a while now, with fear and love and desperation all so mixed up inside of her all the time.

"Hermione..." Ron said from her side, startled. She looked up to him, though she knew her eyes were glistening with tears. It was harder than she could have imagined to see her parents again, and as usual, she had been forced to act on impulse.

"There. Its done," she said, setting her beaded bag down and changing her mind about her wand, setting it down on the counter beside her bag. She brushed past Ron and moved to the nearby sofa, where she sat down, sinking into the cushions.

The decorating was so obviously her mother's style that it disturbed her in a way. Her father's glasses sat on top of his book on the coffee table, so typical of him...

Ron sat down beside her cautiously. She knew what was wrong and what had thrown him off. She was always so calm and controlled, and walking in and ambushing her own parents was completely out of character. In a way, she found it a good sign that he was being cautious. It meant that he knew her.

"When I was little, I always wondered if I was a kid or a status symbol," she said quietly, not looking at Ron and only able to see him out of the corner of her eye. "I know they love me because I'm their daughter, but I want them to love me because I'm me, and I don't think that will ever happen."

Ron remained silent as though he was waiting for her to elaborate. She said nothing for a moment, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Everything was always about being perfect so that no one would ever look twice. I never understood that. I didn't understand why they did anything --- why they were so focused on having the best of everything and showing it off. So I retreated... even at eight I was buried behind books and overdoing my homework, and by the time I met you and Harry, it was such a habit..."

"Saved us more than once, you know. I don't think it was because you learned to rely on books to get away that you're so smart. You can't learn that."

Hermione smiled a bit and looked at him. She had always taken pride in being clever. It was the only aspect of herself that she had any confidence in. She often tied her own self-worth to her grades and how quick she could answer in class. Part of what she loved about Ron was that he didn't seem to think that a quick thinker was all she was. He saw more. He saw things in her that she herself couldn't see.

Silently, as were most signs of affection between them, Ron opened his arms to her. She slid into them, leaning into his warmth and comfort, shutting her eyes and dreading the moment when her parents would awake and question her.

The house was silent. Harry was sitting on the stairs, thinking. He had never been fully in control of his life. Even when he had free time at the Burrow before, he had always known a new crisis awaited him --- there was always something that could happen, always some way that things could fall apart.

With the darkness pressing in on him, he felt calm. The shadows dancing in the living room comforted him in a strange way --- he had never been able to look at them and not wonder if one of them was the shadow of someone trying to kill him, at least not in recent memory.

He sighed and took a drink from the bottle of Butterbeer in his hand. It warmed him, but the taste was forever tied to Sirius in his mind. The way they had drank their Butterbeer in silence in his kitchen the night Mr. Weasley had been attacked had stuck with him for years.

The shadows were moving strangely now. Harry looked up and saw a figure emerging from them, climbing the steps toward him. He recognized it instantly as Ginny, wearing a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She silently moved up to the step below him and sat down, leaning against his legs.

Harry set down his drink in favor of stroking her hair. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked her.

She nodded a bit, and he could see that there was a sort of solemnness to the action. It made him feel uneasy. He leaned forward a bit, very gently touching her face, which he couldn't see.

"Why?"

For a moment still, she did not speak. When she did, her voice, which was usually so strong and full of confidence, even when he knew that she herself was not, was weak and vulnerable.

"I keep having nightmares about what Hogwarts was like last year. I keep thinking about how scary it was and how we were so afraid to do anything... but we did everything we could with Dumbledore's Army, because we knew it was right. It was what you..."

She trailed off, but Harry didn't need her to finish. He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head as he felt her arms slide around his calves. In all the confusion and all the things to think about, Harry had never stopped to really think about what life must have been like at Hogwarts for those he cared about, especially Ginny. All those nights he had watched her dot on the Marauder's Map... he had never stopped to think about whether or not she had cried herself to sleep. He had only ever pictured her dreaming peacefully in her comfortable bed...

"You were so brave, Gin," he said, his hand sliding down her arm until it found her hand, and he grasped it gently but firmly. "You were. I know it was scary, and I know it was bad. Thank you so much for rallying so much support."

"It wasn't just for you," she said, "so don't let it go too far to your head."

She looked up at him, and in the faint moonlight that was pouring onto the stairs, he could see her grin. He smiled back and kissed her softly.

"This year will be better. It will be normal."

"As normal as things get at Hogwarts, I reckon," she said in reply, resting her head back against Harry's knee. He smiled a bit, leaning against the wall, just feeling her there, and finally letting the realization that it was really over, and that life away from all of the chaos existed for him. There had been times he had doubted it ever would.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" he asked her. It was such a mundane question, but he loved asking it and feeling that they really had choices now and that the summer was wide open for them to play and heal and live...

"I want to go flying," she said, and Harry could tell she was drifting off a bit, "Until we're exhausted. And then I want to come back inside and collapse on the living room floor and sleep until dinner is ready, eat until I'm sick, then curl up under a blanket and read."

Harry grinned a bit, closing his eyes as well. He would wait until she was asleep, he knew, and then carry her downstairs and lay her on the couch. He would sleep beside her on the floor, content to do so, after he was sure she was sound asleep and nightmare free.

"That sounds perfect."

A/N: Yet again, I'm so sorry this took so long and that its probably very disappointing. It'll get better, I hope!!!

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Send me your suggestions!

Oh, and much love to Anna and Sarah, because without you two, I would have never been in a position to write this anyway.


	8. One is the Loneliest Number

This chapter is best served with marshmallow fluff and strawberries.

**Harry and Ginny**

The sun hadn't risen over the British Isles yet, but Harry was wide awake. A soft whimpering coming from just feet from where he sat had woken him up, and he found himself unsure of what to do. Ginny was thrashing about on the sofa nearest to him, muttering incoherently in an anguished tone. He was sure he had caught Fred and Ron's names, and maybe Hermione's and his own in her mutterings. As though in pain, she gripped the cushion and turned her head against the back of the couch, her red hair tangled and strewn across her face.

Harry watched her and bit his lip, wondering if he should wake her or wait for it to pass, until he heard her mutter no, let me go.

He slid to his knees on the floor and crawled over to her side. Very gently, he shook her shoulder, saying her name firmer and louder until her eyes snapped open and she sat up. Her breathing as hard and erratic, and Harry leaned forward to see her face.

Her eyes were wide for a moment, until she seemed to come to her senses and realize that it was only just a dream. Then, for the first time in a very long time that Harry had seen, she dissolved into tears.

"I was there again," was all that she said, leaning into Harry so he could wrap his arms around her, which he did. He hated hearing her like this --- she sounded so vulnerable, and in his eyes, strong, fearless Ginny should not be able to sound vulnerable. Not that he didn't want to be there for her and comfort her and let her depend on him, but it seemed so contradictory to the face she presented to the world.

It took quite a while to get her calmed down. Harry whispered to her, telling her that everything would be okay and that it was only her mind playing tricks on her until she was leaning into him, breathing slowly.

"I can't get it out of my head, Harry," she said. He closed his eyes tight and turned his face against her hair, breathing her in.

"I know, Gin. Its starting to get to me too. We just have to get through this together," he said. Silently, he climbed onto the couch and guided her to lean back on him. He smiled a bit as she turned her face against his chest, her arms wrapped around him as she calmed back down. A faint glow was starting to cover the patch of sky visible through the window, but Harry didn't care. He'd let her sleep on him for as long as she wanted. He wouldn't move. He'd stop breathing if that was what it took.

**Charlie**

Romania was a long way away from home.

Charlie was standing in his house on the edge of the dragon reservation. There were fifteen other people who worked here full time, and each of them had their own home somewhere along the edge. It was the incentive --- you work for the Ministry abroad, and we'll give you an amazing house.

At nineteen, it had seemed like a good plan. At twenty five, not so much.

The house was lonely, though it felt a lot like home with the blanket his mother had knitted for him across the back of the couch and an infamous Weasley sweater thrown across the back of a chair. A picture of his family sat on the mantle of the fireplace and Charlie cringed upon seeing it. Fred's eyes pierced him in a way they never had before.

With great anguish, he moved to it and turned it over so that the glass faced the surface. For a moment, he stood frozen. His brother was dead. His sister was growing up. His parents were fine without him. Percy had seen the light. George was going to be just fine. Bill was expecting a baby. Ron was in love.

But where was he? Scarred and broken in more ways than one, Charlie had never had much real luck with love, caring and relationships. He knew why, but it wasn't something he could help.

He loved too much. He cared too much. It got in the way. He was a nice guy with a dangerous job. He was a nice guy with an overwhelming family. He was a nice guy with nothing. Nothing to offer, nothing to demand.

At night, Charlie would often sit on the back porch of his house and stare across the reservation to the little bit of the only other house he could see from where he was. It was Valeria's, the bold, brave, passionate champion of dragon rights, and Charlie just so happened to be in love with her.

But he had learned. He had been taught time and time again that love wasn't for him. He would only get hurt if he told her how he felt, and Charlie wasn't so sure his heart could take much more pain, especially not now that Fred was gone.

He had always been closer to Fred. When the twins had been quite young, he and Bill would each take one and play with them or teach them to fly rather than keep them together. It was the only way to keep the house in tact, and for some reason, Fred had liked him better. Though Fred couldn't have ever remembered it, they had bonded in those days before Charlie had grown up enough to realize that little brothers just weren't cool.

It was late evening, and the sun had disappeared, but a little light still shone through small cracks in the dark clouds covering the sky. Rain was starting to fall a little on the dark green grass. Charlie looked out over the field and at the trees bending in the wind as a deafening crack of thunder shook the house.

Usually, anything that could startle a child made Charlie jump. He was very sensitive to any kind of stimulus, but since the battle, he had been so immensely depressed that nothing effected him. After seeing all of those people that had so much to live for dead in the Great Hall and realizing that he himself had nothing to live for, his heart seemed to ache constantly. Worst of all was Fred, though. So promising, so vibrant...

A sharp knock on the door snapped him from his stupor, and he looked to the door for a moment before moving to open it. It could be any member of his team bringing back his Black Labrador Ben now that they saw the lights on in his house.

He moved to the door and opened it, expecting to see Mike or Stanley with Ben barking and wagging his tail, happy to be home. Instead he found himself face to face with a slender, tanned young woman with dark brunette hair, warm honey colored eyes and a concerned expression.

"Hey, Charlie," Valeria said, her mild Italian accent showing through just a little. Everyone else on the team was either British or Irish, so her accent was virtually unrecognizable, especially when she had been around the others for a while.

He found a weak smile for her, taking just a few seconds to look at her. Her mere presence seemed to calm her, and, though he still felt lost, in a way he didn't feel so empty.

**Ron and Hermione**

Hermione was laughing from the heart for the first time in ages. Ron was telling her about all the stupid things he and Harry had done --- the little things that, at the time, didn't seem to matter.

"And then he tried to tie his shoelaces with magic and they got so tangled up that he had to take them off and examine them to get them untied," he said, telling her of the morning of Harry's seventeenth birthday. She giggled, one knee drawn up to her chest and the other stretched out across Ron's lap. They were sitting on the floor of her parents' house, waiting for them to awaken. She and Ron had carefully moved them onto the couch, and every few seconds they would glance over to see if either one of them had moved. So far, it had been an hour and there had been no change.

"I always felt so out of the loop since I wasn't up in the boy's dorm with you guys," she said, looking back to Ron, "It was like you two had this bond I couldn't understand."

Ron nodded a bit, looking thoughtful. Hermione thought it looked cute on him, and she smiled faintly.

"Well, I suppose we do. But at the same time, you and Ginny have a friendship I don't get. And you and Harry have one too."

Hermione raised her eyebrows a little. "Really?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah. I don't understand how any guy could settle to just be friends with you. You're amazing."

Hermione gazed at him in wonder for a moment. He sounded so sincere, and it was so strange to hear Ron say something so profound. Unfortunately, she wasn't given time to respond. Her parents were stirring, her mother more than her father. Hermione jumped to her feet, accidentally kicking Ron in the process.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, climbing over him to the couch, crouching down beside her parents. It took only a moment for her mother's eyes to flutter open. Hermione smiled a little at her, on the verge of tears. She could see in her mother's eyes that it had worked and that she recognized her.

"Hey, mum," she said quietly. Her mother sat up on the couch as her husband stirred a little, and Hermione glanced to Ron, who smiled a bit and nodded.

"Hermione, what happened?" she asked. Her father was pulling himself up, straightening his glasses on his nose. He too, looked chronically disoriented.

"I had to modify your memories to keep you safe," she explained, looking up at both of them, "Its been a year now. Well, almost. Harry, Ron and I had to go away to do something, but its all over now."

"You didn't go back to school?" her father asked, firm and with an edge to his voice. Hermione swallowed hard.

"No, but let us explain," she said quickly.

"Is that Ron?" Mrs. Granger asked, looking to the redhead on the carpet. Ron waved a little.

"Yeah, I'm Ron," he said, getting to his feet and walking over to shake their hands before sitting on the coffee table to face them.

Hermione started to explain. She told them about the horcruxes and how they had set out to destroy them. She covered most of the basics, except for Ron's departure. That was a topic she preferred to avoid.

In time, she made it to the end, where Harry had defeated Voldemort. She knew that her words didn't do the moment justice, but she was sure that eventually, they would read a better account of it, or maybe Harry himself would tell them the story.

"Well," her father said after a moment of silence after Hermione had finished, "that sounds quite dangerous."

Ron nodded, looking at Mr. Granger with a bit of incredulity on his face. "Well," he said, "it was, considering we had a psycho arch villain who wanted us dead..."

The two men regarded each other for a moment, and Hermione knew that her father was taking in the fact that Ron had traveled with her from England to get them, and that this was, in fact, the young man she had come home talking about last year.

"So you're the boyfriend," he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose a bit, "I thought you'd be bigger. Like that other boy. What was his name?"

Hermione blushed a bit as her mother answered.

"Viktor."

Ron raised his eyebrows, glancing to Hermione. "You met him?"

"He came over for dinner once. Long time ago."

Hermione gave Ron a weak smile and a little shrug. He didn't look angry, just shocked that Hermione hadn't told him. But why would she? At the time they didn't talk about Viktor, or anything that they were feeling as a matter of fact. Being open with each other was particularly new to them.

"Well, thats good to know," Ron said, standing up. He offered his hand politely to Mrs. Granger to help her stand up. She took it and got to her feet, looking down at Hermione to follow suit.

But she didn't. She was looking into her father's eyes and he was looking at her curiously. All of the things she had always felt about her family were on the surface now, and they were buzzing around in her head, making a lot of noise.

My entire life I've felt like I had something to prove. I always told myself that it was just who I was, and that I was out to show myself that I could do the things that challenged me most and do the things that challenged others better. If there's anything I've learned over the past seven years, its that I don't have to prove anything to anybody, and that I'm happiest when I'm not trying to show anyone us.

So why am I still so afraid of failing them?

"Have I been a sore disappointment to you, dad?" she asked, her eyes blazing in a way that they usually didn't. She was sick of being the passive daughter. It was time to stand up.

"What?" he asked. His eyes flickered as though he were searching her face for something. Hers, however, were keenly focused on his.

"I'm not perfect, obviously. I didn't go to that prep school you had picked out for me. I'm not beautiful and I'm not dating a millionaire. I'm not headed to Oxford this summer, and I completely uprooted you and mum from your lives without your knowing it. You must be furious," she said.

"I don't understand why," he said. His voice was gaining some of its common sternness. It was something she had obeyed as a child and had learned to resent as an adolescent.

"I told you why," she snapped. Years of frustration were finally boiling over. She was usually so mild tempered, especially at home, and the tone of her voice simply was a testament to how much she had changed, "I didn't have a choice, and you're looking at me like it was something that I wanted to do. So, tell me the truth, am I really a disappointment to you? Because every time I've been home since my first year at Hogwarts, you've treated me like I am."

"Well, I have to admit, you haven't turned out to be the young woman we always thought you would be," he said. She shook her head, standing up and folding her arms.

"What did you want me to be? A debutante?" she asked, looking down at him. "Do you remember that day when I was fourteen? I came home before fourth year, and you didn't even ask me how my year was. And finally, when it came up and I told you about the tournament and Voldemort coming back, you just told me 'thats what you get for going to that school'!"

"I never wanted you to go there," her father said firmly, getting to his feet. Maybe only a year ago, Hermione would have been intimidated, but somehow compared to facing evil embodied in a terrifying force, facing the death of friends and wondering if her friendship with Harry and relationship with Ron would ever survive, her father, though larger than her, didn't seem so frightening.

"Your mother," he continued, "insisted. After talking to that McGonagall woman, she was convinced that it would be best for you to be with people like yourself. She always knew you were different."

"Funny," Hermione said, her hands sliding to her own hips, "how when you're eleven, you're 'special' and when you're eighteen you're suddenly 'different'."

She turned on her heel and walked around her father to the counter. She snatched up her wand and slid it into the waistband of her jeans, and grabbed the beaded bag she had so desperately held onto over past months.

"Hermione..." her mother said, sounding almost compassionate to her daughter. Almost.

"Don't bother," Hermione said, looking at her. It was astounding how little she looked like either of her parents. Her grandmother's eyes, her grandfather's hair... different parts of people she barely knew. When he had been a child, that was all she had ever seen herself as. That was all she had ever known herself to be. Her real family, Harry, Ron and the Weasley's, had taught her to be a whole person.

"I'll come back in the morning. Help you get things together to go back to England."

Seamlessly, Ron was at her side, his arm loosely draped around her and his hand on her hip. Together, they turned from her parents, and walked outside, ignoring her mother's questions like "where are you going?" and "where will you sleep?".

And in that moment, as she stepped into the blinding sun and let Ron guide her down the sidewalk towards the center of town, she finally understood why she couldn't produce a patronus.

She had never been happy.

----------------------------

Will Ron make Hermione feel better? Will Charlie ever find happiness? Will Ginny stop having nightmares, or will they get worse?

And the real pressing question is...

Will these people ever get my brakes fixed?!

Tune in next time! The next chapter shouldn't take too long to complete.


	9. Facade

A/N: I wasn't joking about the brakes. It wasn't a metaphor (but in a way, it could be). The cylinders on my rear brakes blew and I had to have them changed yesterday. When I wrote that, I was waiting on the call that my car was finished.

PLEASE REVIEW! I am a very lonely individual and I need contact and feedback.

**Ron and Hermione**

It had been a silent walk into town. Ron just kept his arm around Hermione for support, and she walked watching her shoes. By the time Ron had steered her to a hotel, she was quite aware of the frayed seams on her imitation converses and exactly how dirty the bottoms of her jeans were.

"Two rooms," Ron said. Hermione shook her head in the first real show of any reaction to what was going on around her since they had left her parents' house.

"No, just one, Ron," she said quietly. It seemed senseless to get two. She trusted him not to push her, and she just didn't want to be alone.

He looked back to the receptionist, and Hermione looked up at the girl behind the counter. She was quite pretty --- something Hermione herself could never be. She was thin and tall and she held herself with an undeniable grace and confidence, where Hermione was average (though she kept telling herself it was curvy, it just didn't sink in) and was usually inclined to the clumsier side of coordination.

With all these insecurities crushing her, she climbed the stairs at Ron's side, releasing his hand. She ignored his puzzled look and ran up the three flights of stairs, and found herself waiting on the upper landing.

"Hermione," Ron said as he made it to the top, a little out of breath, "you always said how much you loved your mum and dad. How come you never told me you had problems with them?"

It was a valid question. Why, after years of friendship, had she not told him about how her family had made her feel? She looked down into his blue eyes as he looked up at her from the stair below expectantly, and remembered how much she loved him.

Ron was everything she wasn't. He didn't have the pressure she put on herself. He was funny and open without meaning to be or having to force himself to be. She admired him and she needed him for reasons that she herself could not explain. He had helped her to open up. He had taught her to love.

"It never seemed important, I guess," she said. She felt guilty. She knew everything about Ron, she made sure she did before she let herself fall in love with him so completely. And he knew nothing about her, and he loved her anyway.

He didn't know her favorite color was a soft, grayish shade of blue. He had no idea that her favorite books were the 'Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants' series, because she had always wanted friends like that. He didn't know that when she was younger, she had been the proud owner of a little black puppy that died three days after she got it, even though she had done everything she was supposed to.

" 'Mione, you've got to tell me these things, okay? Especially if they bother you," he said. Hermione looked into his eyes, and felt something break inside of her. It was that final barrier where she ultimately trusted him. The one she had kept up, just in case.

Silent tears began to fall from her eyes. She didn't bother trying to pretend that she wasn't crying or try to hide it like she usually did. She just leaned forward and buried her face against Ron's shoulder, wrapping her arms around him, and letting him catch her for once.

**Charlie**

"Hey," Charlie said, stepping back to let her into the house. He could feel a strong gust of wind pushing its way into the house, and quickly shut the door behind her. Valera looked windswept, and he could tell that she had been working that day. Her skin was pink from the sun and she had a fresh bandage on her knee, which was visible since she was wearing shorts.

"I heard he news about Lord Voldemort. I had planned on going to England yesterday when my contract was up," she said. He could tell she was eager to talk about it, but somehow Voldemort's downfall paled in comparison to his beloved brother's death.

Charlie nodded, though, gesturing for her to sit down on the sofa. She did and looked at him expectantly as he sat down on the opposite end from her. Part of him wanted to tell her everything about Harry, Ron and Hermione and what they had done, and about Fred's death and how hollow and insecure he felt inside now.

And another part of him wanted to act like it was no big deal and things like this happened around him all the time.

"What happened, Charlie?" she asked.

_Tell her, Charlie,_ said the voice in the back of his head that sounded so very much like Ginny, _Let her in or you'll never know._

"There was a battle at Hogwarts," he said, looking up at her. She looked interested and horrified at the same time, her dark brown hair falling into her eyes. "Harry, I'm sure you've heard of Harry Potter, well, he's best friends with my brother Ron and this girl, Hermione Granger. Long story short, they spent the past year tracking down the pieces of the puzzle to defeating Voldemort. And ultimately, Harry won, but it was so crazy, Valeria. I can't describe it. So many people died... my brother..."

Charlie trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Valeria raised a hand to her lips in shock.

"One of your brothers was killed?"

Charlie nodded, looking as though the very movement caused him pain.

"Oh, Charlie," she said, placing a hand on his scarred and burned arm, "I'm so sorry."

He nodded a bit again. "Me too," he said, looking up at her. She looked compassionate and as though she genuinely cared that he was hurting. For a moment, in all the despair, he felt a bit of hope, knowing that she cared.

"Which one of them was it? Is the rest of your family okay?"

"It was Fred, my little brother. George is lost without him, but really, they're doing as well as can be expected."

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked Charlie was suddenly aware of the fact that she was closer than before. Her knee was against his leg, and he tried to remember the last time they were this close. He couldn't.

"I don't think so," he said quietly. He couldn't look at her anymore. It was too painful to be so close to someone he cared about so much and not be able to touch her.

There was a distinguishable change in her body language. She looked defeated.

"Are you sure?"

In truth, Charlie didn't want to be alone at all. He wanted the company of somebody --- anybody. He didn't want to lay down in his big, empty bed and feel the weight of the world pressing down on him in the darkness.

**Harry and Ginny**

Morning came far too soon as far as Harry was concerned. Ginny had slept soundly for the most part once he was with her, but in truth he was sure that it was because she was so tired. He had dozed off just a little bit, but other than that, he had stayed awake, watching her.

Around 6:30, Harry looked up, hearing footsteps coming from the stairs. He assumed it was Mrs. Weasley, up and ready to cook breakfast, and he was willing to risk waking Ginny up to go help her --- for years he had felt useless when he was staying at the Burrow, and now he wanted to make up for all the times he had spent playing when he could have been helping out.

He was quite surprised to see Mr. Weasley coming down the stairs, his glasses askew as usual, and his reddish hair tousled. It took him a moment to realize that his only daughter, who he was rather protective of, was asleep on top of her older brother's best friend. Harry knew that it wouldn't matter much that he was a hero or that he had basically been their son for the past six years. All Mr. Weasley would see was that he was far too close and comfortable with his little girl.

Harry met Mr. Weasley's gaze and the two men regarded each other. The first rays of sunlight were just starting to pour through the window, and Harry was glad to see that Mr. Weasley did not look angry.

But neither of them said anything. Harry's hand idly rose to Ginny's hair, and he stroked it softly. My. Weasley watched, looking as though he were trying to evaluate Harry on the spot. Harry didn't make a sound, but he mouthed the words "I love her," to him.

"I know," said Mr. Weasley, very quiet. He stood there for just a moment more before heading off to the kitchen, and Harry didn't hear another sound from him.

It was another hour before Ginny woke up at the sound of hearing her mother come down the stairs. Harry watched as she sat up and rubbed her eyes, not unlike a small child just waking up. He grinned a bit at how lopsided and tangled her hair looked now, and he wondered how it had gotten that way, since she had been so very still for hours.

"Good morning," he said. She smiled tiredly at him and tucked her hair behind her ears. Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek before standing up, just as Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs.

"I must have slept in if everyone is all ready up," she said. Harry smiled at her.

"Do you need help with breakfast?" he asked.

"I can help, Harry," Ginny said, getting to her feet. Harry tugged her hand which, in her sleepy state, knocked her off balance and she fell back onto the couch.

He grinned at her as she gave him a haughty look, which was interrupted by a mighty yawn. "You go get washed up. I'll help today."

Harry got up and followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen. She was instantly looking through the cabinets, trying to figure out what would be the best thing that morning.

"Did you sleep well, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry glanced through the kitchen doorway to see if Ginny had gone into her room. She had, thankfully, and Harry turned back to Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny's having nightmares," he told her, getting the frying pan off of the rack. He laid it on the stove and found a carton of eggs, ready to start scrambling them. He had gained relatively good cooking skills while living at the Dursley's, since he was often Petunia's slave.

_Petunia!_ He thought with a slight jolt. She may not be his favorite person in the world, but she certianly deserved to know that the man who had killed her once beloved sister was dead.

He understood her better now, after seeing Snape's memories. He wanted to talk to her and to tell her that her sister had been angry with Snape for upsetting her --- that Lily really had cared. Harry didn't feel that he owed her that explanation, but he knew that he needed to give it to her, if not for her, for himself.

"Is she?" Mrs. Weasley said with interest. Harry was reminded of the Riddle voice that had flowed from the open locket. Hadn't it said that Ron was least loved by his mother, who had always wanted a daughter? Hadn't Mrs. Weasley killed Bellatrix Lestrange in vengance for her attack on Ginny?

Harry looked to her. _No,_ he thought, _she loves her children equally. It was Ron's insecurities that Riddle had played on. Nothing more. Molly would have killed Bellatrix if she had attacked any one of her children._

"I think the battle shook her. It shook everyone, but she almost died."

Molly looked at him with a slightly mischievous smile. He knew that she was thinking of how she had finally gotten payback on Bellatrix.

"She'll be alright in time. She's missing Fred and worried about George. And we all did believe you were dead for that horrible fifteen minutes."

Harry nodded a bit. Ever since He and Ginny had talked after his defeat of Voldemort, he had tried to imagine what it would have been like to see one of the people he cared the most about laying dead in Hagrid's arms. He didn't like what he felt when he thought about it, and he was sure how Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and all of the people who cared about him had felt much worse things upon seeing him like that.

"Arthur tells me he found you two on the couch this morning," Mrs. Weasley said, stirring up some batter for pancakes. Harry looked up from what he was doing, still swirling around the eggs, milk and cheese in the frying pan. He had some serious respect for how Mrs. Weasley fixed at least one meal a day by hand, with little use of magic.

"Ginny was having nightmares. I told you," Harry said. He didn't want to have this conversation. Not now.

"Its not like I don't know whats going on, Harry," she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye with a lopsided smile. He returned it a bit.

"Mrs. Weasley, I ..." he trailed off, trying to figure out what was best to say to her, "I love her. Nothing is going to change that. Just please, don't disapprove..."

Mrs. Weasley burst into laughter, though she still continued cooking. "Harry, dear, why would I disapprove? You're a fine young man."

She turned to him and he jumped back, realizing she was waving a spatula threateningly at him. It was only an inch from his nose, dripping batter onto it, when he froze.

"But if you hurt her... well, you saw what happened to Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

A/N: In the time it took me to write this, which was a few days, I did indeed get the cylinders on my car repaired.

And then, the next day, when I went to drive it, the breaks blew out. Imagine driving down a highway and not being able to stop. Fun stuff (not).

Anyway... so what should happen next? Should Charlie get the girl? Should Ron and Hermione get arrested in Australia? Should Harry get beaten to a bloody pulp with a pancake-batter-covered spatula?

Please review? I'm not too proud to beg. And please pray for Kevin Eevrett's recovery. He's a NFL player for the Buffalo Bills who suffered a severe spinal injury on Sunday.


	10. Soulmate

**Hermione and Ron**

Hermione and Ron walked down the hallway to find their room, holding each other's hands very tightly. She was shaky and he was trying to be strong for her --- she knew that he was trying very hard, and that he had been for quite a while.

"Do you hear that?" Ron asked. Hermione looked up as he stopped walking. Hermione frowned and listened, hearing hushed voices and a soft whimpering coming from around the corner...

Ron let go of her and rushed forward, and Hermione followed right behind him. When they turned the corner to the rest of the rooms, she saw a tall, rather large man standing over a thin, frail looking woman, who had the hollow, manic look of a drug addict that she had once encountered.

"Hand it over," said the man. The woman shook her head defiantly and tried to scuffle away, but the man grabbed her around her small waist. Hermione watched in horror as she hit the door, and she winced realizing that the woman's expression of pain had been caused by her back hitting the door handle.

"Oy!" said Ron, stepping towards the pair. Hermione's eyes widened. What if the man attacked Ron? Self-conciously, she felt the ridge of her wand against her leg. She would only pull it out if she had to, but she had to have Ron's back.

The man looked at him and the woman scampered away while he was distracted. His eyes flashed, but Ron stayed steady, looking at him.

"What do you want?" the man sneered at him. The woman ran around the corner at the other end of the hall and disappeared from sight. Hermione's instincts, altered severely by the events of the past few years, told her to draw her wand and curse the man.

"Why were you hurting that woman?" he asked. His voice was sharp.

The large man lunged at Ron, and Hermione realized that he was either drugged or drunk.

_How stupid am I?_ She asked herself. She watched as the man pushed Ron back into the wall and the two men fell to the ground, struggling fiercely and swearing loudly.

Hermione yelled and, without thinking, reached down into the scuffle to try to help Ron. He was doing rather well on his own, really, but still, he was at the disadvantage of being under the larger man. The drunken man, though, had the presence of mind to reach behind him, grab Hermione by the shirt, and throw her against the wall.

"Damn it!" she swore, clutching her shoulder. Hearing her cry out enraged Ron, and he drew his knee up quite forcefully into the groin of the man hitting him. The man groaned and rolled off of Ron in pain, and Ron got to his feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked Hemione as she got to her feet. As if she had needed something more to deplete her confidence, an image of Harry and Ginny in the same situation burst into her mind, and Hermione knew that Ginny would have been much more help...

She nodded a bit, pulling herself to her feet. She glanced to the man on the floor and moved past him, walking towards her and Ron's room.

_Too much, too much, _said the voice in her head, _It was all okay when I was expecting it... hunting for horcruxes and fighting death eaters, but this was supposed to be happy... we were supposed to go to the beach. I should be laughing right now, not feeling like such a waste of space._

Ron unlocked the door quickly, obviously hoping the man he had just injured hadn't gotten up yet. Hermione noticed that his wand was clutched tightly in his hand, and she bit her lip. They shouldn't have had to draw wands at all this trip.

"Are you okay?" he asked her again, locking the door behind them. Hermione tossed the beaded handbag unceremoniously onto the bed, still clutching her shoulder.

"I'm fine, Ron. Are you okay? You were the one being hit, you know," she replied, turning to him.

"I'm fine, actually. He was too drunk to hit right. It was kind of like you hitting me that night after I jumped in the lake."

Hermione looked to him. They didn't usually discuss the time when he had left her and Harry to search for the horcruxes on their own. It was taboo --- a forbidden subject.

"So I'm a terrible puncher. Thanks, Ron," she said, plopping down onto the bed and kicking off her sneakers. She stared at the ceiling willing herself to just stop thinking and fall into that place between consciousness and complete disillusion.

Ron didn't say anything, but she heard him moving. She heard a shuffle, where she assumed that he removed his shoes, and she felt his weight shift the bed under her. She shut her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her, and she turned into his chest.

The warmth she found there was overwhelming. She had though that she had lost the dream that love and compassion conquered all --- it had gotten lost in the shuffle for her, but laying there, a million miles from everything she knew, she was content.

_Its amazing,_ she thought, _what a difference being near to one person can make._

And then the voice she had come to know was always right said in the back of her mind...

_Thats because he's your soulmate. _

**Charlie**

"I'll sleep on your couch if you want me to, Charlie," Valeria said, squeezing his hand tight. Charlie looked down at their hands for a moment, and then back up at her as she added, "I understand if you don't want to be alone."

He kept his silence for a moment. There would be no better moment than that one, would there? Besides, he was in the grace period of his contract --- if things became uncomfortable working with Valeria, he could leave and go home, which he was considering anyway.

"I don't want you to leave," he said, grasping her hand when she went to move it away, "I want you to stay."

She smiled at him softly with a look in her eyes that, Charlie suspected, could melt even the coldest heart. Much to his surprise, she reached out to him with her other hand as she turned to face him better, touching the stubble along his jaw with her fingertips.

"I worried about you a lot, Charlie," she said quietly. He closed his eyes to her touch and turned his face into her palm.

"I worried about you too," he said, looking up to her again, "I was afraid the other guys might not look after you."

She laughed a bit, and Charlie smiled. "Really, Charlie. When was the last time I needed looking after?"

He thought for a moment. "I guess a few months ago when that Ridgeback tried to make you lunch," he said.

Valeria bit her lip and blushed. He was sure she was remembering that day she had nearly died. He had the scars from the burns on his back where he had dived to move her from the line of fire.

"You were really brave that day," she said.

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

She was just looking at him. For the first time, Charlie couldn't feel the color rising in his face when she just looked at him. _What does she see?_ He wondered. The lightning flashed outside and the thunder wasn't far behind it, vibrating the windows of the house. Charlie grasped Valeria's hand, though all he wanted to do was run his fingers through her hair. He had wanted to for so long...

It happened quicker than Charlie could have ever imagined it. Valeria leaned into Charlie and suddenly, her lips were on his. He kissed her back fiercely, as though he had seen it coming all along. He found himself holding onto her as though she were his life its self --- his fingers were tangled in her hair as she crawled onto his lap, somehow, without breaking away from him.

"You're so stupid, Charlie," she said breathlessly when they came up for air. He kissed her again instantly.

"Why?" he asked after a moment, not letting her answer for another few seconds anyway.

"I've been trying to get you to look at me for months now," she said, then kissed him again. A chuckle rose deep in Charlie's throat.

"I've been looking," he said at the first opportunity, "You just weren't looking back."

For a moment, Valeria looked at him. Charlie looked back, and was fearful that he had somehow upset her when she stood up. But she grasped his hands and pulled, and Charlie stood up, knowing he was in for more than he had bargained for.

She kissed him again, much more passionate than before, and Charlie could feel her hands gripping the back of his shirt as though she were keeping him there. She didn't have to hold onto him, since he would not have let go of her for anything in the world at that moment.

Charlie held onto her tight, kissing her back in a way that he had never, ever kissed anyone. In that moment, his mind was both blissfully blank and racing through all of the moments he had watched her longingly, thinking of the moment he had met her and had seen her in the sunlight by the lake, playing with the young water dragons. He saw in his mind all the nights by the fire pit with the crew, drinking butterbeer and making s'mores. He was reminded of how she had looked that first night they had all gone into town for dinner and how she had looked in that little black dress...

He willingly followed her gentle tug deeper into the house, falling more and more in love with her with each passing second...

**Harry and Ginny**

When the post came that morning, Ginny was very surprised to find herself with a letter in her hands. With all the talking around her, no one really noticed or questioned who it was from, but Ginny did.

Her eyes were red and puffy, her body slouched with fatigue. She hadn't been sleeping well, and the previous night had been the worst yet. _It will pass_, she told herself, but it was no use. It had been nearly a week, and it still hadn't changed.

She read her letter slowly, at first because she was exhausted, and then because she simply wanted to savor the moment...

_Dear Ginny Weasley,_

_Greetings!_

_I have the happy task of scouting this year to find a replacement for myself as the seeker of the Hollyhead Harpies. I have received word of your exceptional skills as a seeker and would like to inform you that I will be attending some of your games this year to observe you and, sometime in July, I will make a decision on who will replace me._

_You should know that I am considering two other seekers from your school._

_If you are interested, please reply no later than October 1._

_Sincerely,_

_Gwengog Jones_

Ginny grinned widely. With all the pressure from school and from her family to pick a career path, this was an excellent opportunity. She had always loved the thrill of he game, either as a chaser or a seeker, and she had often found herself dreaming of someday playing professionally. And now... well this was just too good to be true.

She looked up to her family. For just a moment, it was a secret, and she enjoyed it. They were all talking among themselves, though laughter was scarce. Her mother was eating quietly beside her father. George was talking quietly to his father, sitting in what was usually the seat reserved for Bill.

Ginny cleared her throat and held up her letter.

"You're not going to believe what this is," she said. She was grinning broader than she had for quite a while.

That was, until, she spotted Harry leaning against the counter with a letter in his hand. He met her eyes and glanced from the parchment in his hand to the parchment in hers.

The letters were written in the same, scarlet ink. The envelopes had the same seal.

A/N: Uh oh. Looks like their might be a little snag in their happy relationship.

Tell me what you think! Suggestions? Praise? Flames? All are welcome.


	11. Normal

Author's Note: I never really thought I'd make it to over a hundred reviews. So _wow_. Pretty cool. I'd really like to make it to a much bigger number! If I could give all my reviewers cookies, I would.

Ok. So here's what happened with the Harpies. I had this section written all together and I split it up against my better judgment. And then I realized that I had Ginny's letter poorly worded anyway. I did know that the Harpies were an all female team, but I had been thinking about how the NFL is organized and how people get shuffled around... I'm sorry! Go with me here. It gets better. Don't hate me!

Enjoy! Review!

**Harry and Ginny**

"What does yours say?" said Harry quietly.

"That I'm going to be scouted. Mine is from Gwenog Jones," she said.

"Thats strange. Mine is from the owner of the Hollyhead Harpies and the Caerphilly Catapults," said Harry.

"You're being scouted?" she said.

"It says they're looking to re-shuffle the teams. They're looking for only one player and they're letting Gwenog Jones choose," he said, "Says she'll be the one at the games and that she'll choose the new player."

"But not necessarily for the Harpies?" she asked. Harry looked back down to the letter in his hand.

"No. Otherwise they wouldn't be looking at me, would they?"

"So it says that you're actually being considered to play professionally?" Ginny asked.

He nodded, sighing.

"Are you going to accept?" she asked.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Ginny knew how much he loved the game. She wondered if he had ever really thought about himself as being good enough to play professionally. She had always known that he wanted to be an auror, but what if he wanted to play quidditch first?

"Yeah," he said after a moment, "I think I am."

"Well," Ginny said, folding her arms, "So am I."

"I didn't think you'd want to," Harry said, taken aback. Ginny got to her feet.

"And why not?" she asked, stepping around her chair, "You don't think I'm good enough?"

"I didn't say that, but I didn't really think it was your thing," he said.

"Of course its my _thing_, Harry," she said her eyes narrowed and her arms folded as she rose to her feet. The room had fallen silent under the weight of their tension.

"If you don't think I should try, I won't. If you really want it that badly ---"

"You damn well better play your hardest, Harry," she said, glaring, standing but a foot away from him, her head tilted back as she looked up at him, though Harry seemed to shrink just a bit.

"Fight me for it."

**Charlie**

Charlie woke up slowly the next morning, warm and comfortable in his bed. Bright sunshine was pouring through the clouds across his face, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the trees outside swaying in a gentle breeze.

He could also see Valeria asleep beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow, her peaceful face just beside his. He smiled a little, feeling that at least something was right in his life.

She must have felt him shift a bit, because she muttered under her breath, "Just ten more minutes..."

Charlie chuckled softly and kissed her forehead. He watched as her eyes opened and she looked at him, and he was suddenly fearful. What if she woke to regret?

"Hey," she said groggily. He was so relieved when he saw her smile, that he felt as though an anvil had been lifted from his chest.

"Good morning," he said. He took her hand that was resting beside her face in his own, kissing it. "How did you sleep?"

"Cozily," she replied, then seemed to think about that for a moment, "if thats even a word."

Charlie laughed for a moment, then asked, "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Pancakes?" she said, sitting up. It touched him how comfortable she was with him, and with what they had done so very unexpectedly.

But wasn't that what he had wanted? He thought about it for a moment.

_No. I wanted to be close to her, but not to have her regret this. Will things be awkward?_

As he climbed out of bed after pulling on his boxers, he felt her hand grasp his arm. He turned around to look at her to see her sitting up, clutching the quilt his mother had made to her.

"Charlie, what are we doing?" she asked. He turned to her, the tensity stretching across his shoulders. It was now or never and he knew it, but how could he ever find the words? How could he ever tell her how he felt when he watched her work with the young dragons and how he admired how she moved as she danced around the crew's Friday night fires, singing along with the radio.

"What ever you want, Valora," he said, looking at her, "Anything. I'll take as much or as little of your time --- of your attention --- that you're willing to give me."

The tensity turned to pain as he watched her eyes, somehow surveying him without moving a centimeter. She was just watching him, and yet he felt as though she had somehow gotten inside him and was searching every little bit of what and who he was. He did not want to hide anything from her, but he was afraid she wasn't going to like what she found.

"Can you make pancakes with chocolate chips in them? Because if you can't, I suggest you figure it out. Its my favorite. And no cheating and using magic. Its just not the same."

Charlie grinned and kissed her hand. "Of course not."

**Ron and Hermione**

Hermione was not inherently an early riser. When it came to school and something scheduled that she had to do, she had learned to drag herself from bed and go about her day, but when she understood that there was nowhere to be at any certain time, the rest of the world could wait.

When she finally awoke, she did so slowly, vaguely realizing that her outer-shirt was no longer on her body, that her belt was missing and that her shoes and socks were off of her feet. She knew she had fallen asleep fully clothed, so how was it that everything was suddenly somewhere else?

She opened her eyes to find herself tangled up in the comforter of the hotel bed, her shoes, socks and belt nearly piled against the door, and her shirt folded neatly on the bedside table. Her hair was frizzier than usual, and her skin felt sticky --- the first sign that it had been a rough night. Vaguely, she could recall some vivid dreams, and they were quite unpleasant.

Ron emerged from the bathroom, ruffling his red hair with a crisp white towel. She curled up a little more into the covers and watched him, smiling. His hair had become quite shaggy, since there had been no one on the run with them to trim it, and he wouldn't let her come near him with the scissors. Truth be told, Hermione was rather fond of his new, shaggy hair.

"Well, good morning," he said. Hermione smiled a bit.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"I didn't want to wake you. You looked so content."

She nodded a little. Something in his voice was different than what it had been a year before. It didn't sound deeper and the way he talked was the same... no, it was something else.

"You've changed, Ron," she said, still curled up under the covers. She was aware that her toes were quite cold, but didn't have the presence of mind or the energy to cover them up. She was thankful when Ron walked over and did, before sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. A year ago, she wasn't sure he would have done that.

"I guess so," he said, looking at her, but still not looking into her eyes. "I think when I left you guys, something snapped inside me. I'm so sorry, Hermione."

She shook her head, sitting up a bit. "Its over now. Nothing we can do."

Ron nodded a little bit, and Hermione sat up, shaking her head a bit and gingerly feeling her hair. It felt frizzier than usual, and she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"You can see the ocean from the window, you know. Just a little. D'you want to go down to the shore?"

Hermione nodded a little bit, "Yeah, but then I think we should go home. I really, really want to get life back to normal."

Ron laughed a little bit. "What is normal, Hermione?" he asked, "I mean, think about it. We've never had a normal year at Hogwarts, and we were too young to know what it could possibly be like to be adults in the world. Besides, there's going to be a new ministry now that Kingsley is in charge."

"Yeah, but still. We've got one year left. Things will be different. I'm ready to find normal."

They smiled at each other, and Hermione giggled a little as Ron leaned in and kissed her._ That had to be a part of normal, she thought._

Author's Note: It took me a long time, and its short. I'm sorry.

Give me suggestions! Review!


	12. Breathe In

Author's Note: Hey! Listen, I know Harry winds up as an Auror. But he's young. That doesn't mean he comes to that decision right away, or that he takes it lightly.

"I think I'm going to get a job at Flourish and Blotts," she said as they got off the plane in London. She had been taken aback when she had taken a good look in the mirror that morning. Her skin was quite tan and her hair was much lighter than it had been when she had left England a week ago. She and Ron had spent a great deal of time on the beach once she had come to terms with her parents. She hoped that things would work out with them, but for now, she was happy just to take things one day at a time.

"What, for the summer?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded, her near-blond hair falling out of its clip a bit. Her parents were walking behind them, looking groggy, but Hermione was wide awake. She was ready to see Harry again --- she had missed him quite a bit.

"Hermione," said her mother as they moved down the escalator, "Are you sure you don't want to come home with us?"

Hermione smiled a bit. "I'm sure, mom. I'm going to stay with Ron and his family and I'm going to get a summer job in our world," she said. They smiled a little, and Hermione could see a shadow of regret on their faces.

"You'll write, won't you?" her father said.

"Of course I will. Every week. But this is something I need to do."

They nodded a bit, and Hermione looked up. She saw Harry standing with his hands in his pockets, watching them descend with that quirky smile on his face. Hermione grinned and slipped between the people in front of her, muttering "excuse me" and "pardon me" as she did so, running to him once she reached the bottom.

"I've missed you!" she said as she jumped into his arms. As always, he caught her.

"I missed you too, 'Mione," he said. He clapped Ron on the shoulder once he reached them, then looked up to the Grangers, who were keeping their distance.

"Did things go okay?" he asked. Hermione had sent him a short, slightly distressed letter the day after she and Ron had arrived in Australia, and she was sure that Harry had been worried about them.

Hermione bit her lip and gave a non-committal shrug that plainly said 'we'll talk about it later over something alcoholic', and motioned for her parents to come over, which they did.

"Mom, dad, you remember Harry, don't you?"

They nodded, and they both shook hands with Harry, who had a very protective arm around their daughter.

"Yes. Its lovely to see you again. Hermione told us all about what... well, what happened."

Harry smiled sadly and nodded. "Well, we're all just glad that its over, aren't we?"

Ron nodded quickly. "Absolutely."

"Well... um," Mr. Granger started, "We're going to go get our bags and go home, I think. We'll hear from you soon, Hermione?" he said. She nodded.

"Yes. Soon. I'll send Pig."

"Pig?"

"Don't ask," said Ron. Hermione grinned and hugged her parents goodbye. She knew that they were watching her as she walked away, with one arm around Harry and one around Ron, and Hermione hoped they saw that she was happy. She hoped that they could accept that she was no longer theirs, but she belonged to the two men beside her as a sister and a lover, and that their family was hers now.

"Well, I thought we'd spend a few days at Grimmauld place, you know," Harry said as they approached his small rental car. He pulled out the keys that Hermione quickly snatched from him,

"Do you even have a permit, Harry?" she asked. His eyes didn't leave the keys.

"No, but I can drive."

She sighed and shook her head, climbing into the driver's seat. "At least I have a permit. You better let me drive."

"But I want to drive," he protested, leaning in through her door and trying to capture the keys again.

"No," she said, turning the car on. Harry glared at her before climbing into the back seat.

"Girls are so pushy," he said childishly as Ron climbed into the front passenger's seat.

"Tell me about it," he said.

Hermione glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Harry grin at her.

"Ginny's waiting there," Harry said, looking at Ron, "She's not doing so well. She can't sleep. She's usually so... active, but she's exhausted, so I thought a change of scenery might help."

"And you left her there alone?!" Ron cried, turning to face Harry. "Why?!"

"Ron," Hermione said softly, "There's no reason to panic anymore."

Ron looked at her for a moment, then turned around in his seat. Hermione drove and the boys rode in silence for a few moments. They all just stared ahead, and Harry, for a moment, realized that he had felt that his decision to leave her there was stupid and dangerous. What if the Death Eaters... Voldemort...

"Its going to take a while to get rid of that impulse to panic, I guess," he said. Hermione nodded sadly.

"It will, won't it?" Ron said. They had become so used to being afraid of being left alone at any time --- of being left vulnerable and without support --- that it had become an instinct to panic when it was mentioned that someone they cared about was on their own anywhere.

"Is it still protected?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.

"Muggles still can't see it, but its not like anyone we don't want coming knows about it, and anyone we do want knows where it is and how to get there. So what does it matter?"

"What about the protection inside..." she said, trailing off.

Harry smiled a bit. "I left the dust Dumbledore, if thats what you're asking. I think having him jump out at unaware people would be something Dumbledore himself would have liked. So until everyone has been startled by the dust bunny,he stays."

Ron laughed, but Hermione scowled. "You think frightening people with the figure of someone they cared about who died is _funny,_, Harry?"

Harry considered her question for a moment.

"Yeah. I do."

When they finally made it through the London traffic to Grimmauld place, Hermione was swearing.

"Where the _hell_ do these people learn to drive?!" she asked, parallel parking expertly, "I mean really, all cars come equipped with a turn signal _for a reason."_

Ron was trying his hardest not to laugh at her. It had been so long since they had all had the luxury of just being themselves and not having a small part of themselves on guard that he truly couldn't remember what normal Hermione was like.

They got out of the car and Hermione looked around, unwilling to let a muggle see them enter a door that wasn't really there as far as they were concerned. The war may be over, but violation of the statute of secrecy could still land them all in jail.

When they entered, Kreacher met them with a bow.

"Welcome home," he said in his scratchy voice. Hermione smiled at him fondly, remembering the way he had led the house elves into battle against the Death Eaters. He was quite brave for one so small and old.

"Good evening, Kreacher," she said, hanging her coat on the rack by the door. She tossed the beaded bag onto an counter with a disproportionate _klunk_ and collapsed into a chair in the kitchen as Ginny entered from the other door. Her eyes looked tired, but she smiled none the less.

"Hey," she said, approaching her brother and hugging him tight. Harry had never known the two of them to be particularly close or affectionate, but he knew that Fred's death had probably changed both their perspectives permanently. So what if they annoyed the hell out of each other? You never really knew what would happen tomorrow.

"Hey. Have fun while we were gone?" he asked.

She nodded a bit, "Yeah. Looks like you had fun too," she said, seeing his sunburned cheeks and slapping him hard on the back. He winced an jolted a bit, and Ginny grinned an impish grin, and sat down beside Hermione, seizing a chocolate cookie off of the golden plate in the center of the table.

"You look tan and blond, Hermione," Ginny said, munching. Hermione grinned a bit.

"Yeah," she said as Kreacher sauntered into the room.

"What would masters like for dinner?" he asked.

"What are the options?" Ginny inquired.

"Anything," he said. She looked to Harry.

"You two pick something," he said, nodding to the young women at the table, "'Cause me and Ron, we'll eat anything."

George

The joke shop had seen a boom in business since the fall of Voldemort, since everyone was quite keen on celebrating. George was quite happy that day to be closing. It had not been a good day.

Some days were better than others. That was to be expected, he knew. Some days he would wake up and be ready to take on the world. Others... well, he would wake up and wonder why he even bothered.

The bell on the door of the shop rang as it opened. They had been closed for a half an hour, but George wasn't used to locking the door yet. That had been Fred's job. He wondered how many months it would take for him to remember to lock the door without repeating it to himself for hours.

"We're closed," he said without even looking up.

"Even for me?" said a familiar voice. George jumped.

It was Alicia Spinnet, his former Quidditch teammate and friend. He grinned wearily and stepped out from behind the counter. She spoke with just a hint of an Italian accent. Last he had heard, she had taken a year to be in Venice.

"I guess I can make an exception just this once."

She was quickly hugging him tight, and George appreciated her embrace. Of all the girls he had known in his time at Hogwarts, she was the one had had known, appreciated and liked the best, and seeing her face lifted his spirits more than he wanted to admit to himself.

"I couldn't make it back in time, George. I'm so sorry," she said. He squeezed her tighter for a moment before letting go.

"Its ok." he said with a small shrug.

"No, its not," she said, "I wanted to be here for you and for... well, for Fred's funeral, but I couldn't make it. I wanted to help fight, but... I don't know, George. Every day I said, _I'll go tomorrow_ and every day I was just so... so..."

"Scared," he finished for her, "Alicia, I know. Its okay. You had always wanted to go to Italy for a year and you were there before things got bad How could you have possibly talked yourself into leaving a place that you wanted to be in so badly just to come back here and risk being killed?"

Her expression gave away that this was something that bothered her deeply, "I'm so sorry. I feel so horrible, George."

George hugged her again, but didn't let go.

"Don't. I'm glad you didn't come back in time to fight. I'm glad you weren't at Fred's funeral. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm not. It could have been me instead of someone's mother or daughter or sister ---"  
"_You're_ a daughter and a sister and a friend and maybe someday you'll be a mother," he said.

"I'm not a good daughter," she laughed a little against her will, "Remember when I flew into my mother's window and ripped the curtains? Then I told her it was okay because they were hideous and I hated them anyway?"

"And she had made them herself."

"Thats why they were so ugly." she said, chuckling, "She never did have much taste."

"How is your mother?" he asked. Alicia swallowed, and he knew that the news was not good.

"Not well. Thats part of why I didn't come back. She's taken quite ill and there's nothing the healers can do. I just... I can't see her like this. I was never as strong as the rest of you."

"Of course you were. You _are._ Just I a different way," George said. She took a few steps toward the counter and hopped up on it.

"I'll have to go see her," she said, "Find a life here again. I want to. I'm ready to come back," she said. George grinned.

"I'm so glad to hear it," he said, kissing his best friend's forehead, "I live upstairs, actually. There's a bed with your name on it. Or there can be in just a few flicks of a wand."

Alicia giggled. "I'll take you up on that offer," she said. "Is it Fred's room?"

George nodded. "Yeah, but I've all ready cleaned it out. He would have wanted me to move on quickly, you know. Keep going what ever it took."

Alicia smiled a bit. "Yeah. And what better way to move on than to have me there to annoy you in his place."

"Exactly. The apartment is so empty now. And quiet. I'm not used to quiet. Not after the Burrow and living with Fred."

"Well, I promise I'll make as much noise as I can," she said, picking up a box of small, not-so-dangerous fireworks off the counter. Fred has designed them mainly to amuse small children, and parents often picked them up as they were checking out.

"Real, fiery butterflies?" she said, examining one side of the box. He smiled.

"Yeah. They erupt from the box and fly in circles about 10 feet in the air. They're pretty cool, actually. I can show you once the sidewalks outside are a little clearer."

She smiled a bit. "Sure. Any other new, fun inventions?"

George grinned a genuine, friendly grin fo the first time since the battle. He instantly began pulling things off the shelves to show her all that he and Fred had created over the past few years, finally available to the masses.

After giving her a full tour and explanation of their better items, George looked to her, letting a small silence settle over them. There were still a few voices filtering in from the streets.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"I think I want to work here with you," she said. He smiled again.

"Absolutely."

"It'll pay my rent."

"Pffft. Who cares about rent? I own the building."

She began to laugh, and so did he, and for quite a long time, they didn't stop. Somehow, in their laughter, they began to sing a song that they had once sang with their team their first year of playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. They sang loudly and enthusiastically, though out of tune with one another, reduced to acting like children playing outside. They ran from each other through the shelves for a long time, laughing and singing and, for the first time in a long time, celebrating being alive and together.


End file.
